by Ward, Marsha
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Heizer,” said Mrs. Bingham. “Luke, a few days in the wagon bed should speed your healing. See if you can crawl up there.”
“Let me help,” Ned said, and got Luke positioned to his liking in a few moments. Ned jumped out of the back of the wagon box and walked to the front. “Now Miss Jessie, let’s get you up on the seat.”
Jessie cradled her right arm with her left and shook her head. “I reckon I’d rather walk.”
“But Miss Jessie—”
“I’m fine as can be, Mr. Heizer. Really I am. I’ll tie something around my arm to keep it still, and I’ll be fit as a fiddle. Besides, I don’t want to displace Ma.”
“I think Mr. Heizer is right, Jessie,” Mrs. Bingham said. “Just you rest that shoulder. A few days of walking won’t put me out none.”
“Ma,” Jessie protested, but Ned had his way, and soon Jessie was ensconced on the seat with Ned settled down beside her.
“Hi! Get up there!” Ned called to the horses. Once they were on the road, he turned to Jessie. “Your ma’s walkin’ back there with Robert and Miz Hannah. You can call me Ned now.” He watched a pink glow light her cheeks.
“I haven’t seen you for so long,” Jessie said, ducking her head to one side.
“Yup.” Ned moved his foot onto the brake lever. “I’m sorry I let some years get between us.”
Jessie didn’t reply.
“Do you remember that time I brought you a peck of mulberries, and we climbed the tree behind Miller’s barn and ate the whole thing?”
Jessie smiled but said nothing.
“Our hands got all purple, and my belly ached something fierce, but the company was fine.”
Jessie laughed. “As I recall, you threw up all over my skirt, and I had to hide it from Ma and wash it myself.”
Ned grinned. “I don’t remember that.”
“It happened.”
“Nah, it couldn’t have. I was always a model citizen around you.”
“It did.”
“It didn’t!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!”
Jessie gave Ned’s arm a gentle shove as her laughter filled the road. “The purple stain never did come all the way out of my skirt. I had to cover it with an apron until I outgrew it.”
“It does my heart good to hear you laugh, Jessie. I don’t reckon you’ve had much to laugh about the last few years.”
She shook her head. “Ma always tells us life ain’t meant to be fair.”
“But a fine-lookin’ girl like you should have little things that give you pleasure, like fancy trinkets and good memories.” He looked over at Jessie. She was blushing again. “Memories are precious gifts. I have a store of them I could share.”
Jessie said nothing. After a while, Ned began to whistle a tune, and she turned to him, her face a picture of delight.
“That’s the firefly song. You made it up.”
“I made it up for you.” Ned avoided looking at Jessie. He hadn’t told her that, before now, and couldn’t predict how she would react.
“You did?” A low chuckle escaped Jessie’s throat. “I never knew.” She tried out the tune, then laid her hand on his arm. “You never told me. What other secrets are you keeping from me?”
“Oh, lots and lots.” Ned grinned, relieved. “Like the time I shut the Owen boys in the Bates’s cellar for teasing you. Remember, I took you and Ellen Bates and Marie Owen into town on the buckboard to get candy at the store? That’s so you wouldn’t hear them rascals fussin’ to be let out.”
Jessie snatched her hand from Ned’s arm. He looked at her. She had turned her face away again.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Nah, no,” she said, stumbling on the word.
“Are you in pain?” he asked. “This road ain’t too smooth.”
“Um, I’m a little tired,” she said.
“I don’t wonder,” he said. “That shotgun sent you flyin’. Fear is mighty fatiguin’, as well.”
Jessie said nothing in return, and Ned lapsed into silence.
~~~
Jessie hadn’t thought about James Owen for more than a week, but Ned’s remembrance of secrets he’d kept had reopened the wound that never quite seemed to heal. Precious mercy! Will I never stop thinking about him! A cold chill ran through her body, and she shivered, fighting tears that she wouldn’t be able to explain away.
Ned Heizer. Big-brother substitute Ned. Protector and friend while her own big brother, Max, played beau to the girls. Ned was acting like he wanted to court her.
That can’t be. Ned is my friend. How can he possibly want more than that?
Trying to get her mind to think about a different sort of relationship with Ned, Jessie compared him to her vanished James. He and Ned were about the same height, but while Ned’s hair was light colored and prone to corkscrew curls, James Owen had dark, crisp hair that curled around his ears only if it grew too long. How she’d loved to run her fingers through that ink-colored hair! James was handsome in a thoroughly different way from Ned, who limped when he walked. She’d heard Ned had received serious injuries to his legs. James had two perfectly good legs, although he had received a bayonet wound in one shoulder. His impairment had not kept him abed for long. Within two weeks of his return home, he had come courting, smiling and joking and singing songs of love that won her heart.
She sighed, remembering the nausea that had swept though her when James told her he was being forced to go west with his family and he could not take her with him. They clung together, hidden behind a clump of lilacs, tempted to fulfill their love, but when James’s kisses grew hot and insistent, she pushed him away, weeping.
“I can’t, James. You know why. You could leave me with a child. That’d be a dreadful situation for me.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she allowed him to kiss them away, but kept her body from touching his.
“Ah Jessie, Jessie.” James’s groan seemed to come from his toes. “How can I leave you?”
“It’s your pa’s doin’. I’ll never forgive him.” Jessie inhaled sharply as James kissed her neck. “Don’t, oh, don’t!” She struggled to think clearly. “The Bible says you’ve got to obey him, even if you don’t like it. Go and take care of your ma,” she whispered, and gave James a soft kiss and a shove. “Go away, James. Don’t come again. Just go.” She fled for the house.
James was gone, lost to her. She’d never see him again, and a sob rose in her throat, choking her. Even knowing Ned sat beside her, puzzled at her strong emotion, couldn’t keep her from letting it free, for just a moment.
~~~
Ned watched Jessie that night. She surely had acted strange earlier, falling silent when he brought up memories they shared, then starting to cry. Oh, she tried to keep it secret, but he knew she was upset about something he said. He simply didn’t know what had set her off.
She sat on the ground beside Luke, feeding him soup, a spoonful at a time. Her face, lit by the firelight, danced with animation, first smiling, and then frowning when Luke refused the remnants of the soup. She set aside the bowl and pulled up his blanket, patting it into place around his chin. She smiled again, and started to hum.
Ned recognized the tune. It was a lullaby, an old one his mother used to sing.
Jessie finished one hummed verse, then began to sing in a low voice. “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles awake you when you rise …”
He grinned in the dark. How was Luke taking this, a lullaby from his sister? He looked at the boy. His eyes were closed, his face slack. No shame there, Ned thought. He’s already asleep.
Chapter 9
Several days later, Heppie stood at the altar in a strange church and gave a nervous giggle. At last! Her face felt warm, and she wondered if she was blushing. She took a deep breath to suppress another giggle. George stood, ramrod straight, clothes brushed free of dust, sandy hair combed carefully into place over his half ear, looking like he’d keel over if he didn’t wiggle s
omething soon. Heppie looked at the minister, who was thumbing through his prayer book. She couldn’t read his expression and wondered if he objected to marrying two strangers. Two shabby strangers.
She wore the same dress as every day. It was all she had to wear. Ma had brushed at it with her hand, trying to get the worst of the dust off, before they stepped through the church door. Heppie wished she’d been able to wash her dress or at least take a bath, but time had run out when the bustling little minister arrived, shepherded by Robert Fletcher. Several curious townsfolk came in their wake—drawn by gossip that a traveling couple had asked the minister to marry them—and accompanied the wedding party into the church.
Fortunately my hair looks nice. Hannah had brushed it, braided it, and coiled it intricately at the back of Heppie’s head. I’ll make a good appearance from the back.
The minister looked from his prayer book to them and opened his mouth to begin the wedding ceremony. At first Heppie didn’t hear a word he said. She knew he was talking, because his mouth moved, and she could hear a droning sound like a thousand bees circling her head, but nothing made sense because George was looking down at her, and she was drowning in the depths of his blue eyes.
When George finally broke eye contact to look at the minister, Heppie got her ears working again. George stuttered, “I … ah … do,” and the minister looked at Heppie.
“Do you, Hepzibah Bingham, take George Heizer for your husband, to love, obey, and cherish him so long as life lasts?”
Heppie stared at the little man in the frock coat. Did she want to marry George? She swallowed, panicked. Will I love him until I die? Do I have to obey everything he says? She looked at George, her eyes drawn to his right ear. Can I cherish that little half-shot-off ear as long as I live? George squeezed Heppie’s hand and smiled down at her. His touch steadied her, and she knew he loved her. Settle down, Heppie, she thought. You can do this. Just be quick about it before you change your mind again!
She turned to the minister and said in a rush, “Yes, I do. What’s next?” As soon as the question left her lips, she gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified at her audacity.
The minister looked surprised and slapped his prayer book closed with his hand still inside. After a moment, he opened it again, moved his finger down the page, and found his place.
“By the power given to me by God Almighty, this county, and the state of West Virginia, I proclaim you husband and wife, duly and legally married according to the rite of the church. Two dollars, please.”
As Robert took up a collection for the money, George wrapped his arms around Heppie. “The preacher forgot to mention this,” he whispered, and lightly kissed her on the lips. “I’ll never put cows ahead of you again,” he vowed, then kissed Heppie with a thoroughness that dizzied her brain.
She clung to him, warmth spreading from her lips to the core of her being, a tingling wave that awakened an overwhelming need to somehow knit her body together with his. Frightened by the intensity of her feelings, Heppie broke away, her breathing short and quick. George winked at her, and she looked at her hands, still gripping his shirt. She dropped them to her sides, wondering, Did Hannah feel like this on her wedding day?
~~~
After the ceremony, the townsfolk gave the newlyweds energetic congratulations and several bits of advice. Heppie smiled, nodded, and wished they were on the road again, away from well-meaning strangers. She wanted to wash, to get at least her hands and face clean before nighttime came and George— What was George going to do? After they’d set up camp, Ma had taken Heppie aside for a moment and said that after the wedding Heppie would give herself to her husband. Tales she’d heard and things she’d seen crowded into her mind, but surely that wasn’t what people did?
They finally arrived at their camping place with the other members of their party. George patted her hand and said, “I’m going to wash up a bit, but I’ll be back soon.” Heppie smiled in relief and took herself into the woods with a pan of water to do the same.
Later, the last supper dish had been dried and put away and everyone had gone off into the darkness, leaving the newlyweds alone at the campfire. Heppie sat beside the fire, stirring it back to life whenever the flames weakened.
After a time, she got up and leaned over the fire with her stick, and George asked, “Heppie, what are you doing?”
She jumped backward, righted herself, and looked at her husband. “Keeping the fire going.”
“Why, my girl?”
“I like the light.” She sat back down, fidgeting with the stick and wishing Hannah or Jessie would step into the firelight.
“Let it go out. It’s time for bed.”
“Allow me a few more minutes.”
George got to his feet, moved behind her, and squatted down. He put his lips to her ear. “I’d rather you came to bed, my love,” he whispered.
“It’s dark away from the fire,” she whispered back.
“That’s fine with me. The darker the better.” He slipped his arms around her waist.
“George!” she whispered. “What a thing to say!”
“Come on, honey. We have to get up early.”
“I don’t like the dark.” She thought of animals in the darkness of the forest beyond their camp. Animals that lumbered through the trees, making noise.
“You’ll be safe with me.” He nuzzled her neck. “So safe and warm.” He drew out the words, tantalizingly slow.
“Will I?” she asked, moving her neck slightly. “I’m fearful.”
“Of me?”
She remembered seeing a tom cat mount a female at a friend’s farm. The tom had been rough. “No, of things I don’t know much about.”
George kissed her throat. She thought her skin would melt.
Heppie swallowed hard. “The things I feel.”
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” His drawl made the single syllable go on forever. His breath stirred the hairs below the coils of her tresses.
Heppie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Yes, her skin was melting, and if he kept kissing her, she would want to flee into the darkness with him. I’ll be safe from these feelings beside the fire.
George stood up and stepped to one side. Heppie also stood, bending toward the embers to stir them again. I’m a married lady. I can have these feelings. She put down her stick. She paused, thinking, What if this is lust? Lust is sinful! She picked up the stick again and stirred the fire. Sparks flew up, and she stepped back to avoid them. George moved in, took the stick from her hand, and led her away from the fire.
Those cats made a fearful racket. Heppie felt a bit of panic rise in her stomach. Do married folk make noise? Will all the camp hear us?
George drew her closer into the circle of his arm as they walked toward the bed she knew he had prepared for them. He is strong, she thought. He is brave and warm and safe. I love him. I want to be with him. An idea dawned on her. This is what Ma meant. Her panic diminished.
He chuckled. “You’re so deep in thought, my dear. Where are you wandering?”
“Hold me close,” she begged, suddenly clutching him around the neck.
“That’s what I had in mind,” he said, enclosing her in his embrace.
“No. Hold me for a minute or two right now.” She let out a gust of air as he complied.
He bent his head and kissed her under the ear. “There’s nothing to fear.”
“Wolves?”
He shook his head against her.
“Bears?”
Again she felt the negative movement.
“Making noise?”
He was still for a moment, then whispered, “I can’t guarantee that.”
“George!”
“I can guarantee I’ll take good care of you.” His hug tightened.
The last of the panic left Heppie, and she let him lead her through the darkness toward their marriage bed.
Chap
ter 10
Several weeks of travel brought the Bingham party within sight of the Mississippi River. When they reached St. Louis, they rented quarters in a rooming house. Everyone got jobs to improve their condition. Robert hired on at a bank, while Ned took a job as a guard at a warehouse, and George joined the police force. Luke ran errands for a grocery, Mrs. Bingham sold dry goods, and Jessie worked in a millinery shop. Hannah took in mending and sewed men’s shirts.
One day, Hannah sat in a chair, her still hands lying on trousers that needed mending, when Jessie returned early from work.
“Hello, Hannah,” Jessie said, taking off her bonnet and hanging it on a hook by the door. “Miss Huckaby gave me a few hours off, as we’ve caught up on the latest piece work.” She walked over to Hannah and looked down at her. “You look so pale. Why don’t you take a stroll around the park, if you’re finished there? The fresh air will do you good.”
“No.” Hannah glanced at Jessie, and then down to her lap. “I haven’t finished the mending.” One of her hands twitched, and she clasped both together. “Nothing will do me good, Jessie. Not a walk in the park, not a journey across the country, not anything!”
Hannah’s voice had risen, and her sister stared. “What do you mean?” Jessie asked.
“I mean I’m not all right. I’ll never be all right again.” She turned her head away from Jessie. “You can’t know what I endured that awful, horrible day. Why did you and Heppie leave me on that corner alone?”
“Hannah, I’m sorry. You can’t know how bad I feel that you were … taken. And hurt so.” Jessie knelt by the side of Hannah’s chair and tried to grasp her hand.
Hannah pushed herself sideways in the chair, her back to Jessie. “You’ll never feel as bad as I do. Never!” She bit off her words.
“I know that,” Jessie said, getting to her feet. “It’s been weeks since that happened to you, Hannah. Past time for you to get over your troubles.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m going out. You may not want to walk around the park, but I do. Tell Ma I’ll be home before dark.” She rushed to the door, grabbed her bonnet, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
