Their Frontier Family

by Lyn Cote

  In one dreadful moment she spotted Dawn crawling fast only a yard or so from the men. Neechee was barking the alarm, and Noah—at the head of the team of oxen—turned.

  His face blanched. “Ho!” he ordered the team to stop and swooped down to intercept the baby nearly concealed by the high grass.

  “What were you thinking?” he thundered at Sunny.

  She couldn’t speak. The image of her baby under the feet of the huge oxen left her feeling light-headed.

  “She could have been crushed!” Noah roared, holding Dawn close.

  His loud voice frightened the baby and she began wailing.

  Still light-headed and with her heart throbbing painfully, Sunny walked toward him slowly, as if walking through thick mud.

  “Why did you let her get away from you?” Noah asked.

  “Ophelia isn’t feeling well and I was distracted. I’m sorry. Dawn has never before tried to go outside without me.” Sunny heard her voice as if from a distance. She realized she was about to faint. She dropped onto the nearest broad stump and lowered her head.

  “Are you all right?” Noah asked, his voice now soft with concern.

  “I feel faint, that’s all,” she said, her voice still sounding as if it were coming from somewhere else.

  Noah hovered over her, comforting Dawn and speaking gently to Sunny. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I was just so scared for her.”

  Sunny nodded, the earth beneath her still swaying.

  “Sunny?” Ophelia came to her side. “Mr. Whitmore, let me have the baby. I’ll walk your wife back to the cabin and give her a stiff cup of coffee.”

  Noah helped Sunny up. “I’ll come, too.”

  Sunny held up a hand. “No, I’ll be fine. You go on with your work.”

  Ophelia carried Dawn and walked Sunny back to her cabin. There, Ophelia settled them in a chair at the table and poured Sunny coffee. “This will buck you up.”

  Sunny didn’t want coffee, but lifted the cup anyway.

  A sudden fit of dry heaves came over Ophelia. The young woman bent away from Sunny. Finally she regained command of herself. “I apologize. I just don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  Sunny did.

  “How long have you and Martin been married now?”

  “Almost six weeks.” Ophelia looked at her.

  Sunny sighed. “Have you ever heard of morning sickness?”

  Ophelia shook her head no.

  “Not all women get it but some do. It means you may be expecting a child.”

  Ophelia’s mouth dropped open and stayed open.

  “Didn’t your mother explain the signs of pregnancy to you?”

  Ophelia again shook her head.

  This disgusted Sunny. Not teaching Ophelia how to do laundry was one thing. But how could a mother send her daughter away without sharing these very necessary facts with her? So Sunny explained to the young bride how it felt to some women to be pregnant. And how a woman knew she was with child.

  Though Ophelia appeared dumbfounded and slightly afraid, she asked, “Is there anything I should be doing? I mean for the baby, so it will be healthy?”

  “Just eat well and loosen your stays. We’ll need to sew you a Mother Hubbard dress for when your regular dresses don’t fit—though with the first baby women don’t show as early as with the following pregnancies.”

  Ophelia nodded solemnly.

  Then they heard Nan’s voice call from outside and she opened the door. One look at them prompted her to ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m expecting,” Ophelia said, and promptly burst into tears.

  “Well, that happened fast.” Grinning, Nan shut the door firmly and settled Guthrie to play with Dawn on the floor. Sunny then lifted Pearl Louise from her mother’s arms and cuddled her.

  Smiling her thanks, Nan soothed Ophelia and went about brewing her a cup of chamomile tea. “Now, you’ll be just fine. It’s common to be emotional—I mean extra emotional—all the way through and even after the baby’s born. But this morning sickness usually only lasts for a few months. Then you’ll be fine, right, Sunny?”

  Sunny didn’t reveal that since she’d worked every night in the saloon, she’d experienced her morning sickness in the afternoon. She merely nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s see,” Nan said, looking thoughtful. “You’ll be having a baby about the end of winter then. Late February, maybe March.”

  “I didn’t plan on having a baby so soon.”

  Nan laughed heartily at this. “Babies have a way of coming when they will.”

  Sunny was not about to reveal that she knew how to prevent pregnancy but she’d gotten pregnant anyway. Nan was right—babies did come.

  “I’m so glad I have the two of you nearby.” Impulsively, Ophelia claimed one hand from each of them and held on. “There’s so much about being a married woman I don’t know.”

  Sunny echoed the same thought silently. Neither of these women lived the complex, hidden life she did. But this large, good-natured blonde and this innocent, pretty brunette had become her friends. She smiled and squeezed Ophelia’s hand, encouraging her. And kissed little Pearl Louise’s forehead.

  Sunny paused a moment to recall her daughter demanding to be in Noah’s arms. That they had been a family for only near to two months was hard to believe. Dawn certainly didn’t remember a time when Noah wasn’t there to play with her.

  The fact that Sunny had not yet become this good man’s wife completely twinged sharply within. I must be grateful for what I have. Dawn will have a good life and I have a sheltered one. The memory of Noah’s light kiss and brief embrace eased the twinge. I must be grateful for what I have, she repeated to herself. But she couldn’t help but wonder now that Bid’a ban had gone, would she return to sleeping by the fire tonight?

  * * *

  Over a week later in the early balmy afternoon, Sunny drove into town with Nan and Ophelia, who rode behind in the wagon bed with the children. At the end of Sunday’s gathering Mrs. Ashford had issued an invitation to come to town to join a quilting circle.

  Noah, along with the other two husbands, had decided that the threat from the stranger had ended and the three women could go to town without any male escort. So Sunny had of course accepted along with Nan and Ophelia. But Sunny didn’t really relish visiting Mrs. Ashford, a woman who seemed to take herself very seriously.

  Now each of them got down and carried a child and a sewing basket, Ophelia carrying Nan’s Guthrie. Mrs. Ashford, with gray threads in her dark hair and wearing a crisp dress of navy blue bombazine, stood outside her husband’s store. She was chatting with Lavina. Both women waved in welcome.

  Then for the first time, Sunny followed Mrs. Ashford through the store past a beaming Mr. Ashford and up the stairs into the beautiful living quarters above. Why had Mrs. Ashford—who behaved as if she were the leader of Pepin “society”—invited them?

  Surely Sunny and Noah had branded themselves as renegades?

  “I’m so glad that you were able to come,” Mrs. Ashford said, motioning them to take seats around a long dining table near the large lace-curtained windows that overlooked the street.

  “You have a lovely view of the Mississippi,” Ophelia commented. Across the street sunlight glinted on the wide blue river, dazzling.

  “I do enjoy it. I don’t like living in a forest. I can’t see what’s coming.”

  “I find the forest cozy,” Sunny said, surprising herself. “The trees are like arms around me.”

  All the women looked at her.

  “Sometimes I have funny thoughts,” she apologized, her cheeks warm.

  “That was kind of like poetry,” Nan said.

  Sunny looked at Nan. Poetry from her?

  Mrs. Ashford lifted one eyebrow.
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  “Well, I like both, forest and town,” Ophelia said. “I saw that three more families have staked homesteads hereabouts. Have you met them, Mrs. Ashford?”

  “Yes, but only one brought a family with him.” Mrs. Ashford’s tone disapproved of the two bachelors. “I think having a family steadies a man.”

  Lavina nodded. They all sat around the table, which looked to be polished walnut with very ornately carved legs. Mrs. Ashford’s parlor and dining room combined was larger than Nan’s whole cabin. The room contrasted with Sunny’s simple cabin. To her, this room felt crowded with too much furniture and bric-a-brac. Sunny found herself unimpressed by the finery. She began to relax.

  Mrs. Ashford’s youngest daughter, a thin thirteen-year-old, volunteered to take the children out back to play. But neither toddler would leave their mother. So the girl, holding Nan’s baby, lured the children to the sitting area by the cold fireplace and spread out blocks and two rag dolls on the floor. Dawn began chewing a block and Guthrie flapped one of the rag dolls on the floor like a hammer.

  “I’ve started a quilt,” Mrs. Ashford said, standing at the head of the table and unrolling a partially sewn quilt top. “And I thought it would be nice to have a community quilting circle. We probably won’t meet very often during the summer months—we’ll have gardens to tend and preserving and canning to do. But the long winter will be much easier on us if we have a monthly circle to look forward to. Don’t you think?”

  Even though Sunny’s nerves had at first been tightened into little hard knots, the plan for a regular social get-together did appeal to her. So no more at ease, she smiled with the other ladies and murmured something polite.

  The fact that she had never quilted before in her life set her teeth on edge. But she listened and watched. From a bag, Mrs. Ashford plucked out colorful scraps of cloth and distributed some to each woman to create a quilt square. Sunny watched Nan play with the scraps she had been given and was intrigued when Nan began to set them into a pattern.

  Sunny mimicked Nan and began to enjoy herself. Soon she was sewing the pieces together and listening to the women discuss babies and husbands.

  “I hear your father is a judge in Illinois?” Mrs. Ashford quizzed Ophelia.

  “Yes, he is a circuit court judge. My Martin has read law, too.”

  “How interesting.” Mrs. Ashford turned to Sunny. “Your husband is certainly becoming a leader in our community.”

  Sunny’s needle poked her finger and she slipped it in her mouth so she didn’t bleed on the fabric. “Noah?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Lavina agreed.

  “Gordy really respects Noah,” Nan added.

  “And Martin does, too,” Ophelia said, nodding decidedly. “He says Noah can do so many things, knows so much.”

  “And isn’t afraid to take a stand and see it through.” Lavina stopped sewing. “Maybe people didn’t like that Indian woman and her boy coming here, but they respect that Noah stood up for them.”

  “And was able to put that stranger in his place without violence,” Mrs. Ashford said. “And everybody can tell Noah Whitmore’s educated. And a Union Army veteran, too. Your husband has a future in this community.”

  Dawn suddenly demanded loudly to be nursed, which set off Nan’s baby, too. This saved Sunny from having to reply. Sunny and Nan went to sit in comfortable rockers near the cold hearth. Sunny hummed to Dawn as she nursed, pondering all the storekeeper’s wife had just said. Sunny was proud of Noah but hadn’t realized others noticed how special he was.

  The other women continued quilting and discussing the latest fashion. Skirts were becoming more and more narrow and the hoop had definitely gone out. Sunny could barely listen—all she could think about was what the women had said about her husband.

  Noah was the kind of man who garnered respect. She just hoped nobody would say this to him—after all, only a month and a half ago they’d had their first argument over whether or not to even associate with their neighbors. But it turned out Noah wasn’t the kind of man who ignored the needs of others. Which was exactly why she had fallen in love with him. When would she have the courage to tell him that?

  The image of Dawn in her spotless white pinafore standing in the schoolyard came to mind. And Sunny knew for certain that in the future Dawn would be proud of her father.

  Sunny’s face felt hot as she thought about the night after Bid’a ban left, when Noah had not suggested by word or look that Sunny should leave the loft to him alone at night. They still slept far apart but they were at least on the same level now.

  “What are you smilin’ about?” Nan asked in an undertone.

  Sunny blushed. “Noah.”

  Nan chuckled and murmured for her ears only, “Yes, we both got handsome husbands.”

  Sunny smiled but didn’t reply.

  “Katharine!” Mr. Ashford called up the stairs.

  Mrs. Ashford hurried to the open rear door. “Yes, Ned?”

  “Tell Mrs. Whitmore that a mail boat just came in and I have a letter for her husband from Pennsylvania. That’s quick all right. Only took about two weeks. The new railroads are making mail faster all right.”

  A letter for Noah? Sunny wondered if it brought good news or bad news. Remembering Noah’s conflict with his disapproving father, she hoped Noah’s brother had written instead.

  * * *

  Noah and Neechee met Sunny at the head of their track. “I heard you ladies coming.”

  From the wagon bed Sunny smiled at him. The quilting circle had been fun, but mainly because of her two friends and Lavina. Mrs. Ashford obviously was forming her “social” circle with the women she thought prominent.

  From subtle clues Sunny had realized that Nan would not have been included except for her obvious friendship with both Sunny and Ophelia. Katharine Ashford did not deceive Sunny. Her friendship was paper-thin while Nan’s ran to the bone. And Ophelia’s affection shone as honest, too.

  Even after such a short separation Sunny experienced a rush of affection for Noah. But of course she couldn’t show it. It wouldn’t be appropriate in front of the other women.

  Soon Nan drove away toward Ophelia’s. Dawn insisted that Noah hold her, so Sunny only carried her sewing basket as they walked toward their cabin. Neechee barked playfully at Dawn. Now that they were alone, Sunny reached into her pocket. “Noah, I have something for you.”

  He looked up.

  She held out the letter that she’d tucked into her pocket with care.

  Noah stared at it as if he didn’t know what it was.

  She extended her hand farther, insisting he receive it. Why did he hesitate?

  “It looks like it’s from your brothers. Or your father.”

  He finally took the letter and stared at it as though he could read it through the envelope.

  She waited till Dawn’s struggling to get Noah’s attention became impossible to ignore. She retrieved the child and set her down. Determined, Dawn crawled straight back to Noah and pulled herself up, using his pant leg. Noah ignored Dawn, an unusual occurrence. Neechee barked once as if trying to shake Noah’s preoccupation.

  Maybe it’s me. “I’ll let you read your letter in privacy.” She moved toward the cabin.

  “No.” He slipped the letter into his breast pocket. “I’ve got some work to do.” He picked Dawn up and then handed the child back to Sunny. He walked away, Neechee trailing after him.

  Sunny was dumbfounded. There was something in that letter that Noah did not want to face. What was Noah hiding from her?

  * * *

  That evening the letter sat on the mantel unopened. Noah watched as Sunny got ready to serve supper. On the floor Dawn crawled after a ball of leather he’d fashioned for her. Neechee lay across the threshold as usual, but her gaze fixed on her master. Noah sat on the bench by the table
and stared at the letter. He knew he must open it. He wouldn’t sleep, knowing it sat there. Noah had just sent a note about arriving safely. He struggled with the fact that he feared reading it. His brother wouldn’t have responded so quickly unless he had important news. To him that boded ill.

  Delay in opening the letter had ruined the afternoon, making it more miserable than any in recent memory. Though Sunny had not asked why he didn’t just open the letter, she acted as if she were stepping on eggs again. She kept glancing up at the letter and then away.

  He hated upsetting her. He must read it now.

  He stood. Retrieved the letter. And sat down. Sunny paused and then went back to stirring the pot. Dawn crawled over and watched him slit open the letter with his pocket knife.

  He spread it out on the table, smoothing the creases. He read the brief, poignant letter and tried to decide what he was feeling. He couldn’t.

  Still Sunny didn’t ask. She kept her back to him.

  He took a deep breath, trying to shift the solid block of grief within. “Nathan, my eldest brother, wrote to tell me that my father has had a stroke and is now bedridden.”

  Sunny turned quickly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “He also tells me that our father can’t speak.”

  “That is bad.” She looked to him as if asking what he meant to do about this.

  “My brother says they have hired a nurse to care for him. So I’m not to worry.”

  “These things happen,” she replied, pouring stew into bowls on the table.

  These things happen. Noah realized that he was once again frozen inside. He folded the letter and returned it to the envelope.

  Sunny sat across from him with Dawn on her lap. “Your father didn’t seem to approve of you going to war.”

  Her timid words touched a sore spot. He snorted. “It wasn’t just that. Nothing I ever did pleased my father. We could never understand why everything I did irritated him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged.

  “Will you say grace, Noah?”

  He nodded and bowed his head. A few words and they began to eat.