Their Frontier Family

by Lyn Cote

  Back inside Noah sat down. Dawn crawled to him and pulled herself up beside him, baby talking all the while. He tousled her golden curls, marveling at their softness. Then he announced what he’d decided. “Sunny, we’ll be going to Sunday meeting today.”

  Sunny nearly dropped the ladle of oatmeal she held over Bid’a ban’s bowl. “We’re going?” Her voice quavered.

  “Yes, we are. Old Saul asked us specifically to come.” Noah didn’t know where his forceful spirit had returned from but he was ready and willing to take on the whole town today.

  Sunny sat down and gazed at him intently. Then she nodded. “I’m with you.”

  Bid’a ban looked back and forth between them as if trying to read the veiled tension. She opened her mouth to say something to Sunny, but seemed to change her mind. Again Noah thought she looked afraid.

  “What’s the Sunday meeting?” Miigwans asked.

  “You remember that older man with the white hair that came to visit?”

  Miigwans nodded.

  “He is a preacher and on Sundays he tells us about God and how we should live.”

  “Oh,” Miigwans said. “Can I go?”

  Sunny was trying to hide her worry, but Noah read it clearly. “I think you should stay home and take care of your mother today.”

  “I will.” But the boy had caught the unspoken worry and it showed on his face.

  Noah patted his arm. “Everything will be fine.” He hoped that would be true.

  As they left for the meeting, Noah drove over the uneven track and thought about the unfriendly reception they were likely to receive.

  On Thursday he’d walked over to Gordy’s to give him his seed and such, and had immediately felt an unusual coolness. Maybe not coolness, but more a wariness. He’d helped Gordy log out his garden but he hadn’t been invited inside. And Gordy had said that they would be driving into town on Sunday with Martin and his bride, offering no invitation to join them. Even though he’d expected rejection when he’d decided to keep Bid’a ban, he hadn’t expected it from Gordy. He drew in a sharp breath. The memory of the ride through town last Sunday rippled through him. But he’d stood up to his own meeting all those years ago. He couldn’t back down now.

  Finally they drove out of the trees to the flats at the river and joined the gathering in front of Ashford’s store. A few people waved to them but most just stared.

  Maybe he shouldn’t put Sunny through this.

  “Do you want to go home?” he whispered to her.

  She looked at him and her eyes blazed, reminding him of how she’d looked when she’d put herself between Ashford and Bid’a ban. “No, we have done nothing wrong. We need to face this head on.”

  Proud of her, he climbed off the bench and went around to help her down. When he lowered her, he took her by the hand and led her to the outskirts of the gathering. Sunny looked at him in surprise, then squeezed his hand. No one welcomed them, though Gordy looked worried and shuffled closer to them. Was he coming to back them or cross them?

  Old Saul’s son drove up and helped the older man down and to the porch. Lavina waved to Sunny and Sunny returned the gesture. Soon the hymn singing had started. Sunny didn’t sing as usual and Noah felt a surge of protectiveness for his obviously uncomfortable yet brave wife. Nobody better say anything rude to her.

  Old Saul rose, opened the worn Bible and read, “‘Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.’ St. James tells us this in the first chapter of his book. Last Sunday we witnessed a living example of this when the Whitmores passed through town.”

  The older man’s words seemed to galvanize his hearers. They all stiffened, yet no one turned to look at Noah and Sunny. Dawn’s baby talk was the only sound for a few seconds. Noah increased his grip on Sunny’s hand. He had a hard time drawing a full breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone familiar. It took him a moment to place the man: the stranger who had been lurking at the general store. He stood far back from the crowd, uneasy and edgy. Noah turned his attention back to Saul.

  “I visited the Whitmores on Monday and met the Ojibwa widow and her son. The woman is a widow because her husband served in the Union Army and gave his last full measure of devotion for our country. Noah and many of you also served and witnessed the terrible loss of husbands, fathers, brothers and sons.”

  A few of the men shifted on their feet and then turned and nodded at Noah who returned the same to them. The tight band around his lungs loosened a notch.

  “Mr. Whitmore,” Old Saul continued, “is going to write to the government—”

  “I have already written to the War Department,” Noah declared. He drew the letter from his pocket. “Need to leave this with Mr. Ashford to go out on the next mail boat. The widow and her boy should be getting a pension. They will be staying with us till we get papers from Washington, D.C. Then she wants to go to her people in the lakes area farther north and east.” Let anybody try to fight me about this.

  “We’d appreciate prayer,” Sunny requested then. “We’d like her to be able to go north before winter and you know how slow government is about matters.”

  Rueful laughter agreed to this. Leave it to Sunny to sweeten up people. He smiled down at her in appreciation.

  Old Saul grinned, too. “Now I hope you will all pray for the Ojibwa woman and her son and for all the widows and orphans left by the war. Lavina, I need to sit down. Will you start the next hymn?”

  At the end of worship some people came to Noah and Sunny, but many kept their distance. Men who’d also served in the army gathered around the Whitmores, offering their help. Noah forced himself to accept their hands and words, but the looks they’d sent to him and Sunny last week still rankled.

  Prejudice against Indians was not going away anytime soon.

  Finally Martin and Ophelia came to them with Gordy. “We’ll help, too,” Gordy said. “We just didn’t know what you were doing.”

  “Well, now you know.” Noah tried to keep the twist of hurt from his voice, but failed.

  Gordy flushed red and looked down.

  “Misunderstandings can happen,” Ophelia said tactfully. “I’d like to invite you and Nan over for a sewing circle this week, Sunny. Nan’s lying in will be over then. From what I’ve seen of the little boy, he could use some new clothes.”

  “Thank you,” Sunny said. “That would be a help.”

  As Sunny and Noah made their way to their wagon, Noah remembered the stranger, and took a look over his shoulder. The man stood apart, watching Noah and Sunny carefully. Noah’s instincts told him the man was up to no good. After he helped Sunny into the wagon, he looked back again. But the man was nowhere to be seen.

  Noah kept his observations to himself.

  * * *

  On Monday in midafternoon Sunny walked toward Martin’s house. She carried Dawn on her right hip and her sewing basket on her left elbow. Today would be the first day she’d faced people without Noah beside her since the scene in town. Once again Noah had shown everyone his regard for her and he’d stood up to everyone. She let pride in him flow through her.

  The month of May had proved to be changeable just like the people in Wisconsin. Today was overcast and a cool wind blew in from the west. Sunny wondered when summer would arrive and what a Wisconsin summer would be like—more like Idaho or Pennsylvania?

  Ahead through the trees Sunny glimpsed the smoke from Martin’s cabin. Would Ophelia prove to be a friend? Sunny had grown up with real friends. To the women who lived their lives above a saloon, friendship meant a lot. They depended on each other because they had no one else. Did friendship mean as much to women who had husbands and families?

  Before she’d reached the cabin, she heard Nan call her na
me. Sunny paused, letting Nan catch up, her heart beating fast.

  “Gordy and I are right sorry he didn’t come straight over and see what was going on at your place,” Nan said. “In town he heard such talk—about Noah beating up Mr. Ashford and Indians coming back hereabouts. We should have known Noah and you would only do what’s right.”

  Sunny didn’t know how to respond to this.

  “Didn’t you bring the Indian woman with you today?” Nan asked in her unabashed way.

  “She is still too weak to walk far and is very shy,” Sunny said while beginning to walk toward the door.

  Nan grasped her arm, stopping her. “Please say you forgive us, Sunny. And I’ll never doubt you and yours again. I promise.”

  Sunny gazed up into Nan’s plump, honest face. From the Sunday before last, the humiliation of the ride through town—unkempt and with Bid’a ban tied to her—snared her. What it would have meant to her that first Sunday if Gordy had stepped out from the crowd and asked if they needed anything.

  Nan bowed her head, her little one in her arms whimpering.

  Who am I to stand in judgment of anyone? “Of course, Nan. Forgiven. Forgotten.”

  “You were so good to me when Pearl Louise was coming,” Nan said with a sad smile.

  Sunny put one arm around her friend. “I’m glad to see you’re up and around. Now we best get to the door. If Ophelia is peeking out the window, she’ll think we’re gossiping about her.”

  Nan nodded, but momentarily pressed a cheek against Sunny’s. Then the two walked toward the cabin.

  “Hello, the house!” Nan called out in her normally cheery voice.

  Ophelia opened the door and burst into tears.

  Sunny and Nan exchanged glances and hurried forward.

  Chapter Ten

  Several minutes passed before Sunny and Nan could calm Ophelia enough to make sense of what she was saying in the midst of her sobs. Nan laid her baby girl on the bed in the corner to nap and they set the two toddlers on the floor to play. Finally they all sat on a bench at the table—Sunny on one side of the bride and Nan on the other. Then they were able to staunch the tears.

  “Now you can tell me and Sunny anythin’,” Nan said. “We don’t gossip and we want the best for you and Martin.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Sunny agreed, patting Ophelia’s arm.

  “I just didn’t know...” Ophelia inhaled deeply and wiped her eyes with a frilly hankie. “I didn’t know I’d miss my family so much.”

  “Ah, homesickness,” Nan said knowingly. “It is hard leaving home for the first time.”

  Ophelia nodded forlornly.

  “But it will pass,” Nan said. “Won’t it, Sunny?”

  The question rattled Sunny. She could not remember ever being homesick. One had to have a home in the first place and she’d never had one. Until now. But homesickness might be something like the mourning she’d felt after her mother had died. Maybe someone homesick missed the people, not the home. “Everything in this life passes,” Sunny said truthfully.

  Over the bride’s head Nan lifted an eyebrow at her, but went on soothing the girl. “Now the secret to getting through homesickness is keeping busy. How about we start sewing?”

  Ophelia nodded glumly. The women opened their sewing baskets.

  “I brought fabric,” Sunny said. “Miigwans needs a new pair of pants. His are about worn through. I chalked a rough pattern from his old pair onto this cloth.” She rose and smoothed the heavy brown broadcloth out on the tabletop. “Does this look right, Nan? Ophelia? I’ve never made boy’s pants before.”

  “I have two little brothers.” And then the bride burst into tears again.

  Sunny and Nan exchanged looks. Not much sewing would be accomplished today, it seemed.

  “I’m sorry,” Ophelia sniffled.

  “Why don’t you tell us about it?” Sunny asked, sitting down again. Perhaps the girl just needed to talk it out.

  “It’s just that everything is so different here.” Ophelia waved her hands. “I’ve never lived out of town before.”

  “You’re a town girl?” Nan commented, sounding intrigued.

  “Yes, I lived in Galena. It’s much smaller now that the mining has gone down, but I’m not used to being where there are no streetlamps at night or paved streets.”

  “I’ve never lived in a big town,” Sunny said, and then stopped herself before revealing more. The old fear of exposure tugged at her as she noted how much more stylish Ophelia’s dress was than either hers or Nan’s.

  “Me, neither,” Nan said.

  “Will this awful emptiness really go away?” the bride asked.

  The girl’s forlorn tone prompted Sunny to press her hand over hers. “Yes, you will find that Martin becomes your home. I mean, if he’s with you then you are home.”

  The truth of this flooded Sunny. Wherever Noah and Dawn were, that meant home for her. “I felt a bit lonely here at first till I met Caroline and Nan. But now I don’t feel so lonely.” Sunny decided she better stop talking. Her sympathy might lead her to indiscreet words.

  “Mama warned me that it would be hard to live on the frontier,” Nan said.

  “I know I should be stronger, but...” Ophelia looked lost.

  “You’re young,” Sunny said.

  “But you’ll get older!” Nan added in her usual sassy way.

  This forced a trace of a smile from Ophelia. “I said I wanted to help make clothes for that little Indian boy. So let’s do that. Now, I have sewn clothing for my brothers, and we should make a really deep hem because they grow so fast.”

  Sunny silently sighed with relief. “That makes good sense.” Sunny drew out her white tailor chalk and drew the pant legs several inches longer.

  “Is it funny having an Indian living with you?” Nan asked. “I mean, how do you understand her?”

  Sunny stiffened. “Bid’a ban speaks English and so does her son.”

  “Really? And she doesn’t wear deerskin like I thought Indians wore.” Nan folded the fabric in two.

  “I haven’t asked her about that.” That had struck Sunny as unusual, too. Western tribes wore buckskin. She began cutting the fabric along the chalk lines. “Maybe it’s because the French lived around here almost two hundred years ago.”

  Nan looked surprised. “Two hundred years ago?”

  “Yes, Noah told me.” Sunny felt a touch of pride in Noah’s knowledge.

  After the pant pieces were cut, the women arranged them together.

  “I’ll sew one pant leg and you can sit across and sew the other,” Ophelia offered.

  Finally the time to go home arrived. With Ophelia’s help, Sunny nearly had the pants sewn. She’d just need to do some finishing work to them. Nan and the bride had been helpful and Sunny felt almost natural with them again.

  “I need a favor,” Ophelia said, her eyes downcast.

  Caution jabbed Sunny.

  “What do you need? We’ll help,” Nan offered genially as she changed the baby’s diaper on the bench.

  “I learned to cook and clean, but my mother never let me help with the laundry. She always sent it out to be done.” The bride lifted both hands. “But I can’t do that here.”

  Sunny and Nan both stared at the girl momentarily.

  “Where did your ma send the laundry to be done?” Nan said as if she didn’t quite believe this had happened.

  “An Irish woman in town took in laundry,” Ophelia replied.

  Sunny had sent her laundry to the Chinese in Idaho, but most everyone in town had. “Ophelia,” Sunny said, “I’m doing laundry toward the end of the week. You can bring your laundry over and we’ll do it together.”

  Nan and Sunny left with waves and pleasantries. As they were about to part ways, N
an paused. “I’m glad we’re not brides. We’ve learned about being married and know our husbands and are settled.”

  Pinched by this thought, Sunny tried to look as if she agreed. She knew now that she’d come to love Noah, but did she know him? Were they settled? Not really.

  As Sunny walked home, an idea occurred to her, a wild idea that frightened her almost immediately.

  What if I told him? What would Noah Whitmore do if I told him I loved him?

  * * *

  Laundry day dawned bright and balmy. Sunny usually enjoyed the act of cleaning their clothing, making everything fresh and sweet smelling. Would Martin’s bride show up? Or decide she didn’t really want to come to a house where Indians lived?

  Just then Ophelia appeared, trudging up the trail through the trees. Sunny mustered a welcoming smile. The girl must be desperate to learn. Or perhaps I’m judging her. And wrongly. “Good morning!”

  Ophelia waved. She was half carrying, half dragging a full cloth sack.

  Sunny sensed Bid’a ban standing in the doorway. She turned. “Come out, Bid’a ban. Sunshine will be good for you.”

  The thin woman slipped outside and came near Sunny. “You have a friend come?”

  “Yes, she needs to learn how to do laundry.”

  Bid’a ban looked surprised at this. “I’ll go inside.”

  “No, stay,” Sunny murmured. She wasn’t going to let her guest be ignored.

  Ophelia came close and then halted shyly.

  “Ophelia, this is Bid’a ban.” She introduced the two as if it were a normal meeting. “Now, Ophelia, have you separated your laundry?”

  “What does that mean?” Ophelia asked.

  “Spill out your sack and we’ll make two piles—one for colored clothing and one for whites. If we mix the two, you will no longer have any whites,” Sunny teased.

  Ophelia grinned and proceeded to dump the contents of her bag onto the dewy grass. Sunny helped her divide the clothing while Bid’a ban observed. Ophelia kept stealing glances at Bid’a ban as if uncertain of her.

  Overlooking this, Sunny showed Ophelia how to shave soap into the deep pot set up outside over a fire. Soon the whites were simmering and Sunny set Ophelia to stir the clothing with a broom handle. The acrid odor of lye hung in the air.