by Lyn Cote
Noah looked up at him as if dazed. Then with teeth clenched in a grimace, he slowly rotated his left shoulder and flexed his elbow and wrist. “It didn’t...break anything.”
Still shuddering with fright, Sunny hugged Dawn to her.
“Man, if you hadn’t ducked, it would have taken your head clean off,” Charles said, sounding amused.
“Good...I ducked then,” Noah breathed rapidly, catches in his voice signifying pain.
Men. Joking at such a time.
Sunny set Dawn down and reached out for Noah’s hand. She examined him and saw that the log branches had whipped the side of her husband’s face, leaving streaks of gouged skin and blood. His sleeve had been nearly torn off at the shoulder. She pulled the cuff, ripping off the sleeve to expose the lacerated arm. Fortunately none of the cuts looked deep but blood oozed up.
“Martin? You have a spring, don’t you? Would you bring me fresh water and a clean cloth for bandages?” Sunny asked.
“Right away. I got a big bottle of iodine, too.” The younger man hurried away to his tent.
“My woman sent along a jar of arnica ointment to share when we’re done for the day.” Gordy turned and ran to a bag, which hung from a tree branch nearby. He returned with it and handed it to Sunny with a roll of cloth bandages. “Her grannie makes it with that herb. It’s real good for bringing down swelling and bruises.”
Soon Sunny was washing away blood from Noah’s face and arm. Then, from a scared-looking Martin, she took the bottle of iodine. She steadied herself to cause her husband pain. She noted Noah bracing himself to withstand it.
Dr. Mercy in Idaho had taught her that infection could kill and that iodine fought infection. So she tipped the bottle at the top of Noah’s shoulder and trickled the brown liquid down over his lacerated face and bleeding upper arm.
Noah gasped and gritted his teeth. Sunny knew it burned like fire. The men stood by solemnly, enduring the pain with him. When she’d anointed every cut, gouge and scrape, she began to rub the arnica ointment into the bruised skin around his shoulder joint.
“Rub it in good,” Gordy urged. “That might help keep the shoulder from swelling so much he can’t move it.”
Sunny obeyed and then wrapped the cloth bandages around Noah’s arm. When Martin handed her a large square of muslin, she fashioned a sling. And when all the doctoring was done, she bent her head down, feeling waves of weakness. And sheer terror. He could have been killed. I could have been widowed today. But she had done what a wife was expected to do. She’d taken care of Noah. That steadied her.
“I think we should back it down to just two of us felling and the other two stripping,” Charles said. “Logging is unpredictable. Don’t want anybody else hurt today.”
“I could use a drink of something,” Noah said.
Ignoring her light-headedness, Sunny found the jug she’d dropped in the grass. The jug’s lid had held. She unscrewed it and poured out a cup of coffee for Noah. “I have enough for all. Martin, do you have mugs?”
Soon the four men sipped the still-hot coffee. Then Charles helped Noah to his feet, holding on to him, steadying him.
“My right hand and arm are okay,” Noah said, still breathing in gasps. “I can help with the stripping. It’ll keep my mind—”
Sunny supplied silently, off the pain.
“—busy,” Noah finished.
Sunny wanted to object. Noah needed to lie down and rest, help his body heal, not stress it with work. But she knew better than to voice this. Men didn’t show weakness. And Noah wouldn’t appreciate her coddling him in front of other men.
She hardened herself and kept quiet. “I’ll be back with lunch later.”
“No need, Miz Whitmore,” Gordy said. “My Nan is bringing stew and biscuits over at midday.”
Sunny merely nodded, tight-lipped. “That’s nice of her. I’ll drop by to see her then, too.” The desire to show her husband some affection nearly swept her from her feet, but they didn’t show affection to each other. “You men, be careful. I think you cost me a few years of life just now,” she said, sounding as calm as she possibly could.
The men chuckled but she glimpsed in their eyes that the accident had shaken them, too. Well, good, maybe they’d be more careful. She lifted Dawn and told her to wave goodbye to the men.
Still shaking inside, Sunny headed for home. Stark, cold fear coursed through her but she set a steady pace toward home. One thought echoed in her head the whole way: I could have lost him today.
* * *
Noah sat on his stool in the cool faint light, his arm and shoulder still aching from his accident several days ago. He’d slept like the dead from fatigue though the pain awakened him occasionally. As they ate breakfast, Sunny sat in the rocker nearby.
“When Martin’s cabin is done and he goes south to claim his bride, I’ll finish our table and benches,” Noah announced.
“You’re helping Charles and Gordy finish work on Martin’s cabin today?” she asked.
He tested his arm. “Yes, and I think I can leave off the sling soon.”
Sunny glanced at him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. And there has been no infection.”
“That iodine nearly burned me to death,” Noah said, making an attempt at humor. He could tell Sunny was trying to hide her concern.
“Dr. Mercy Gabriel, Constance’s daughter, taught me about cleaning wounds.”
He nodded. “You did good.”
His words of praise clearly made her happy. A beautiful smile lit up her face and Noah had to look away. He sipped his coffee, focusing on how glad he was that he would be able to work a full day again without showing weakness.
Sunny had been right about being neighborly. He wanted to go to Martin’s today. It was a good feeling to want to be with other men. The time spent laboring at Martin’s place had restored something in Noah. He hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d liked working together as he and his brothers had labored together on their dad’s farm. He didn’t want to lose it.
“I can’t understand why Charles plans to take his family to Kansas. Everything a man needs is here,” he said.
Sunny sighed deeply. “I don’t understand it, either. But it’s a free country.”
“I like to be where there are trees.”
“Me, too. I lived on the plains and didn’t like the...emptiness. They made me feel—”
Noah stopped her. “Look.”
Dawn had been crawling on the floor. But now near him, she was trying to get on her feet. Noah watched, fascinated as the baby tried to pull herself up on the rim of his stool.
“Should be walking before long,” Sunny said, sounding proud.
“We’ll have to watch her then. You heard them last night.”
Sunny tilted her head. “Last night?”
“The wolves were howling at the moon. I spoke to you. You let me know you heard them, too.”
“I don’t remember. I must have been talking in my sleep.”
When he saw the fear in Sunny’s eyes, he regretted telling her. “I don’t want you to be upset. Just keep an eye on Dawn when she starts walking. We need to remember we aren’t living in town. And I’ve seen bear scat, too.”
Sunny nodded solemnly. “I’ll remember.” She looked at him. “I’ve been walking over to Martin’s place by myself.”
“That’s okay. Bear will steer clear of humans. Wolves usually don’t bother an adult but I think a child alone might be different.”
Sunny nodded. Then Dawn’s knees weakened. She plopped down and squawked her displeasure.
Noah smiled. The baby added life to their quiet cabin. Watching Dawn made him think of the coming Sunday. When he’d seen the tree heading for him, in the face of death he’d realized how glad he was to be alive. And then watching Sunny
hurry to care for him... Whether he lived or died hadn’t mattered to anybody for so long. He must care for her, too.
I’m doing this for Dawn—and for us. Sunny’s words suddenly began to make sense to him. His wife was wise, much wiser than he. He inhaled deeply and felt himself calming. Now he knew what he should do, but could he actually do it?
Chapter Six
Outside, Noah stood before the mirror hanging on a peg by the door. With his almost-healed arm free of the sling, he carefully shaved his face with his honed razor. He’d moved the mirror out here so he could see himself clearly in the crisp morning light. He needed to shave...because he was going to attend Sunday meeting this morning.
Fear that he might not be able to make it through the meeting clutched his stomach with cold hands.
He was aware that his wife was eyeing him and holding back the obvious question. He wanted to tell her but somehow he couldn’t say the words, I’m going to meeting. Once he’d come to understand Sunny’s reason for attending, he’d faced the truth. I have to do this for Dawn, and for Sunny—and for myself.
He rinsed away the soap and then wiped his damp face with a towel, inhaling the bracing air. “Sunny?” He cleared his clogged throat. “Will you press my dress shirt and suit?”
“Right away, Noah.” She scurried into the cabin.
He heard her open the chest, which kept their better clothing clean and safe. He should have told her yesterday so she wouldn’t have had to iron on Sunday. The old ways still clung to him—no work on First day, what Quakers called Sunday. He gazed into the limitless blue above the tall treetops, drawing strength from the serenity around him.
Finally he went inside and stood watching Sunny finish ironing his trousers. Her hands were deft and watching her was a pleasure, carrying his mind away from what he must do today.
Dawn crawled to him, grabbed his pant leg and tried to haul herself up to stand. Glad of the distraction, he reached down and swung her up into his arms. She crowed, exultant. He jiggled her and she crowed again. Such innocence. A fierce protectiveness surged within him. This child depended on him. He murmured silently, I won’t fail you, child. Not like his father had failed him. His heart clenched into stone.
Dawn patted his chest with her soft tiny hand, easing in some indefinable way the tightness there. He picked up the child’s little pink palm and kissed it. Then he lifted her high overhead, again causing her to squeal with joy.
“Thank you,” Sunny said, “for keeping her busy.”
When he glanced at his wife, she had looked away. Her soft hands moved over the dark cloth. Steam rose from the dampened fabric. The heavy iron slid along the cloth, pressing the wrinkles and creases flat and fresh. If only humans could lie on an ironing board and have their imperfections ironed out.
He lowered Dawn to his chest, clasping her close, and stepped outside with her. He walked to a nearby pine tree and took her hand and stroked her palm across one needled bough. The little girl’s face showed intense concentration and awe. “Those are pine needles,” he murmured. “Pine needles.”
All of a sudden the child collapsed against him. He realized she was hugging him, an unexpected boon. And for what? The only gift he’d given her was lifting her to touch a pine tree.
Sunny stepped outside. “Your clothes are pressed.” She looked at her daughter hugging him still.
Their gazes linked, connecting them in some powerful way. “She’s so bright. Everything’s a wonder to her,” he managed to say.
Sunny nodded, then walked to him. She held out her hands for the child so he could go dress.
He didn’t want to relinquish the little one—he didn’t want to go inside and dress to face this thing he must do.
Dawn made the decision for him. She turned and launched herself at her mother, who caught her. “If you dress now, Noah, I’ll have time to do my hair and finish—”
He nodded mechanically, cutting off her appeal. He’d made his decision, but every step toward the goal jolted him. “Right away.”
Soon they were both attired in their First day best, standing at the end of their track, waiting for the Fitzhughs to arrive. Noah’s heart beat like train wheels racing over iron tracks.
The jingling harness announced the wagon and then their friends came into view amidst the trees. Charles beamed at him. Noah merely nodded, holding in his inclination to turn back home.
“We’re so happy to see you, Noah,” Caroline said.
Noah ducked his head politely. He led Sunny to the rear and helped her and Dawn up. Then he hoisted himself onto the wagon bed beside her. Charles chirruped to the team and they took off with a lurch and bump.
In front of the store, Noah lifted Dawn into his arms and accepted and returned greetings. He glanced at the chattering people gathered around. Sunny stood beside him. He wished he’d said something to her, but her presence was both a comfort and an accusation. Why couldn’t he explain things to her?
Why couldn’t he explain himself to her?
A brisk breeze blew off the river. He shielded Dawn as best he could. The little girl squirmed to be let down and he knew the same urge—to get down and go about his business, not stand here waiting, dreading.
An old man arrived in a wagon with a couple and two teenage boys. With what looked to be his son’s help, the old man got down from the wagon bench. From the crowd’s reaction, Noah knew this must be the preacher. At once the man’s frailty and strength touched Noah.
The preacher was thin with age but his hands told the tale of years of labor. People around him called out greetings. The old man lifted a gnarled hand in reply and then took the seat that Ashford the storekeeper brought out for him.
Noah felt the crowd move forward, carrying him and Sunny closer than he wanted to go. Then the old man smiled broadly—and it was like he drew them all to him. Feeling the strain of being with others, Noah gathered the invisible bonds that held him together. He didn’t belong here, but he’d come so no one would single out his family as strange or different.
He’d thought that was what Sunny’s words had meant. However, now that he’d arrived, it was clear that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. The past which he’d bottled inside him strained to be released. He tightened his control, clenched his teeth against it. I faced cannon and sabers and cavalry horses. I can stand down this man.
* * *
Sunny watched her husband, had watched him all morning. What had made him decide to come to this gathering? His presence caused her to be even more nervous than she had been last Sunday. Would he remain her silent Noah or had he come to say something? All around her, everyone was smiling. Though nervous, Sunny forced herself to do the same.
Dawn squirmed in Noah’s arms. Sunny reached over and gently took the child and set her down. Noah didn’t object—in fact, he didn’t look toward her at all. He looked to be in pain. Sunny touched his arm.
He glanced down.
She smiled up at him, trying to let him know that everything was all right.
He gazed at her and gave the slightest nod. Then, he drew her hand into the crook of his arm.
At first, Sunny was shocked. Then she felt herself beaming with pride at this show of oneness. This man, the handsomest here to her mind, was not ashamed to claim her here in front of everyone. No other man had ever done so. When Dawn pulled herself up using Sunny’s skirts, Sunny felt for the first time that the three of them stood together, a family.
The son and daughter-in-law of the preacher began to lead the gathering in a hymn. Though aware that Noah remained silent beside her, Sunny sang along as best she could. Then the son and his wife moved to the side, sitting down on the bench outside the store.
Suddenly Sunny was shocked to see that during the hymn singing, Dawn had somehow left her side and crawled up to the porch, and was now in the proces
s of hauling herself up—using the trouser leg of the preacher!
Sunny’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Dawn!”
The old preacher reached down, grasped the little hands and helped the baby stand up.
Sunny rushed forward through the couples. “I’m so sorry—”
Old Saul held up a hand. “No need to be sorry. Jesus said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.’ What a sweet little girl.” He patted Dawn’s back and the little girl crowed.
Sunny paused, unsure what to do.
“Just let her be,” the old preacher reassured her. “She’s doing no harm.” He closed his eyes and began to pray for Dawn, for her family, for this town.
Sunny calmed and drifted back to Noah. Dawn remained at the preacher’s feet, alternately crawling, cooing and dragging herself up to stand. Old Saul watched her with evident pleasure. “Jesus loved little children. He loved them, no doubt, because the world had not yet twisted them, harmed them.” He touched Dawn’s bright curls lightly.
“How many of us,” he continued, “wish we could shed the sorrows and worries of this life and be like children, playing until we are exhausted and then falling into deep sleep without nightmares or cares to
wake us?”
Noah stiffened beside her. Sunny moved a few inches closer to him. He still had the nightmares, and he still had not told her about them. She wanted to slip her hand back onto his arm, but he was very far away—she could see that in his eyes. The preacher went on speaking about repentance, forgiveness and becoming as innocent as children again. Then they sang another hymn, which Sunny thought beautiful. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.
Then they lined up to shake Old Saul’s hand but more to hear his words, different for each of them as if he knew just what to say. Sunny wished this didn’t make her nervous. But surely the man would have little to say to her now that her husband had come. They were a couple just like all the others.
