Their Frontier Family

by Lyn Cote

  Why was it that no matter how far he went, ties of blood still held? Why did a father love some sons and not others?

  Dawn babbled. Then quite clearly she said, “No-No.” He glanced over at her. “No-No.”

  Sunny looked thunderstruck.

  “No-No,” Dawn repeated, patting the table and staring at Noah. “No-No.”

  “I think she’s trying to say Noah,” Sunny said with wonder in her voice.

  Strong emotion brought tears just behind Noah’s eyes. Reaching across the table, he gripped one of Dawn’s plump little hands. “Hey, Dawn.”

  “No-No!” she squealed triumphantly.

  He rose and lifted the baby into his arms, his spirit rising. “I’m Papa, Dawn. I’m your papa.”

  “No-No.” Dawn flung herself against Noah’s chest, giving him one of her unabashed hugs.

  He smiled, his joy overflowing. “Okay, for now you can call me No-No. Sunny, you’ll have to start calling me her pa. We’ll scandalize the neighborhood if we let her call me Noah.”

  Sunny rose and came to stand beside him. She leaned her cheek against his arm as she spoke to their daughter. “This is your papa. Pa-pa.”

  Yes, Dawn, you’re my little girl. And then one tear slipped down his cheek. His father lay ill far away, but he’d always been far away from Noah. His daughter was here, now.

  What had he ever done to deserve this little girl and her mother?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Near his garden, Noah, Gordy and Martin stood, exhausted but satisfied. Fleetingly, the image of Miigwans’s face came to mind. Neechee lay in the shade nearby, another reminder of the little boy. Was he safe now?

  Turning from these thoughts, Noah leaned against one of his oxen and stroked the animal’s back. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured to the animal.

  “You were smart to invest in oxen, Noah,” Martin said. “They can outwork our draft horses.”

  Noah patted his ox’s rump once more. “My father always used oxen. We had horses for driving, but oxen for the heavy work.” He thought of his stiff-necked father now reduced only in his fifties to an invalid and at such a young age. Life took many strange twists and turns.

  Matters here hadn’t turned out just the way Noah had imagined. He’d married Sunny in part so he wouldn’t be totally alone here. But events had caused him to make friends, real friends. These men had stood with him against that stranger. And they seemed to now look to him as the one who knew what had to be done. He’d never quite thought of himself as a leader before, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  “We all need barns before winter,” he suddenly announced.

  The other two men looked at him in dismay.

  “Noah Whitmore, you beat all,” Gordy said, shoving back his hat to wipe the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “We just got the final garden cleared and still need to plow and plant. And you’re talkin’ about winter.”

  Martin groaned and moved as if his back were aching. “This starting from scratch is more work than I anticipated.”

  Noah looked at the younger man. “You thinking of going back to Illinois?”

  “No,” Martin said firmly. “I’ve read law but I was raised on a farm and I can do the work. It’s just that my dad did the hard work of settling and getting a farm started. He warned me how it’d be.”

  “Well, I could have stayed home and worked with my pa and brothers,” Gordy offered. “But I wanted better, more for my Nan and kids, a place of our own.”

  “Then we better talk about raising our barns before snow flies,” Noah said laconically. “The preacher said something to me about holding barn raisings this summer. Maybe we should ask who else needs a barn. If everybody works at logging out what they need, we could gather and get a barn up in a day or two. Maybe do one a month. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like you have that all figured out right well,” Gordy said. Then he paused. “I hate to ask but my cabin was not tight and warm for winter last year. Nan and me nearly froze to death. I see, Noah, how you built a foundation for your cabin and a log floor...” Gordy’s voice trailed off.

  Noah folded his arms and nodded. “I’ll help you add on a larger room and you can use the old cabin as a cold room this winter. I might ask to store some provisions there, too.”

  “You’d be welcome to.” Gordy looked and sounded relieved.

  “I’ll help, too,” Martin volunteered.

  “And if I run short of money, I’ll let it be known that I can work in stone,” Noah continued.

  “I figure I can cut more firewood than I’ll need,” Gordy said, “and sell some for hard cash or barter at the store.”

  “I’m thinking of holding school a couple of days a week come fall. But until then we’ll be raising barns and another cabin. Whew,” Martin breathed out. “We’re all going to be trim and with muscles like rock.”

  This hit Noah funny. He broke out into a laugh.

  “Well,” Gordy said, smiling broadly, “I guess Noah Whitmore can laugh.”

  Noah hadn’t realized they’d notice his lack of humor. This made him think of how Dawn was the one who’d brought back his laughter. Noah thought of Dawn’s latest feat. “A few days ago Dawn said her first word—my name. She called me No-No.” Noah had never understood the expression puffed-up before but he felt it now.

  “Wow,” Gordy said, looking impressed. “That’s early to be talking. And now that you got one child up a bit—” Gordy winked “—I guess you’ll be the next family expectin’ another young-un.”

  Noah’s good mood evaporated.

  Oblivious, Gordy settled his hat back on his head. “I’ll head home now. I think there’ll be enough light I can get my plowing started today.”

  Martin made his farewell also. The two younger men headed off together. Noah didn’t turn to watch them go. Gordy’s words lay heavy, souring his stomach. If matters went on the way they had, Dawn would be his only child.

  He hadn’t realized that he would like being a father. Noah leaned against the ox. He recalled every time Sunny had touched him. How pretty she was and he glimpsed then that he desired her. But that was all. He didn’t seem to be able to move forward. What would it take to make him whole again?

  * * *

  Sunday turned out gloomy. Sunny tried not to let it further dull her mood. She had begun to worry about Isaiah and Bid’a ban and Miigwans. Since they'd left, three Sundays had come and gone; the gardens had all been planted. Had the threesome reached Lac du Flambeau?

  Sunday meetings in town had become a looked-for event. People smiled and waved at them as they arrived in Gordy’s wagon. It was a far cry from the chilly reception they’d once received.

  Martin had an arm around Ophelia who was struggling still with morning sickness. The tender care that Martin showed his bride had increased and it nipped Sunny in a tender spot. The young couple’s love for each other gleamed so apparent. How must it feel to be loved like that?

  Very pale, Ophelia had her handkerchief pressed to her mouth and Sunny hoped she wouldn’t be sick in town—every gossip would know that she was expecting. Both Sunny and Nan had counseled her to wait till the crucial third month had passed before letting the news be known. Better to wait till the worry of early miscarriage passed.

  Gordy parked the wagon under a spreading oak. Noah helped Sunny down and swung Dawn to sit up on his shoulders. The little girl squealed with delight.

  Old Saul and his family already waited on Ashford’s porch. Sunny moved forward, greeting people who greeted her back and smiling generally, always mindful that these were the people Dawn would grow up amongst.

  When closer, Sunny noticed that Lavina looked strained. So Isaiah had not yet returned. Sunny hoped sincerely that no harm had come to him. And she hoped Bid’a b
an and Miigwans were even now safe in the arms of their family.

  Sunny determined to say a few encouraging phrases to Lavina. Surely God was protecting the young man who had volunteered to help a widow and orphan. Isn’t that the kind of thing God did?

  Lavina and her husband started the service with hymn singing. Sunny hummed along and smiled, watching Dawn on her high perch listen intently to the music. After a few rousing hymns, Old Saul stood from his chair and raised both hands. “Another Lord’s Day, what a blessing to see you all and know that he is here with us.”

  He opened his Bible but did not look down as he recited, “‘My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous: And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.’”

  Suddenly Sunny noticed that everyone was glancing behind to the west and she heard the sound of a boat’s horn. A riverboat must be docking.

  Old Saul chuckled. “Let’s sing some more. I know everybody wants to see if anybody or anything’s getting off the boat.”

  Lavina stepped forward and began a hymn. People sang along but, in truth, the boat docking had distracted everyone. Sunny felt the pull of curiosity, too. So little happened outside the daily routine of chores. The boat would bring newspapers from downriver and maybe mail.

  Then Sunny heard Ophelia gasp. The bride turned completely toward the river. Sunny swung around to face the same way.

  From the boat ramp, an older, very expensively dressed lady with a younger woman was advancing toward the Sunday gathering. The hymn trailed off.

  The older woman waved a lace handkerchief and hurried forward. “Ophelia!” she exclaimed.

  “Mother?” Ophelia said, her eyes wide.

  “Yes, Ophelia, I’m here.” The woman said the words as if Ophelia lay on her death bed.

  Just before Ophelia’s mother reached her, the bride pressed the handkerchief over her mouth and wailed softly, wordlessly.

  Quickly, Sunny moved to Ophelia’s side. “Are you indisposed?”

  “Yes.” The young woman looked about to faint.

  Sunny took charge. “Mrs. Ashford! Mrs. Steward is indisposed! May we take her upstairs to your quarters, please?”

  Mrs. Ashford swooped down and helped Sunny assist Ophelia inside. Martin hurried behind them and Ophelia’s mother began calling out instructions in rapid fire from the rear.

  Soon the five of them arrived in the Ashfords’ parlor. Martin had carried Ophelia up the steps at Sunny’s suggestion. He lay his wife on the sofa and stood beside her. “Do you need anything?”

  Sunny noted that Ophelia was trying to swallow down nausea. “Mrs. Ashford, a basin please.”

  “Is my child ill?” the newcomer demanded in a voice that went up Sunny’s spine like a coarse brush.

  Mrs. Ashford handed Sunny the basin just in time. Ophelia lost the scant breakfast she must have eaten.

  “Is there a doctor in town?” Ophelia’s mother demanded.

  Sunny wished the woman would show some sensitivity. She offered her free hand. “No, we don’t have a doctor yet. I’m Mrs. Noah Whitmore, ma’am, Ophelia’s neighbor.”

  “I’m Mrs. Buford Cantrell, Ophelia’s mother.” With lifted nose, the woman shook hands as if she were the lady and they were the lowly and then turned to her daughter. “I can see I didn’t come a moment too soon.” She began chafing Ophelia’s wrist trying to increase circulation.

  Martin retreated, but stayed near his wife.

  “Mother, please,” Ophelia begged faintly, “don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

  Mrs. Cantrell managed to snort in a very refined way. “I told you that you were too delicate to venture onto the frontier. I had this terrible premonition that something awful—”

  “I don’t think expecting her first child is something awful.” Nan’s matter-of-fact voice startled all of them. They glanced toward the top of the stairs where Nan stood near Martin. Nan came forward, smiling with outstretched hand. “I’m Nan Osbourne, another friend of Ophelia’s.”

  Mrs. Cantrell’s mouth gathered up like a drawstring purse and instead of taking Nan’s hand, she nodded curtly. “Mrs. Buford Cantrell. Charmed, I’m sure.”

  Sunny bristled.

  “Oh, a baby—this is good news,” Mrs. Ashford said, obviously trying to help keep everything polite. “I’m so happy for you, Mrs. Steward.”

  Mrs. Cantrell ignored this and went on. “I had a premonition that my Ophelia needed me. I can see she must come home where I can care for her.”

  “Mother!” Ophelia protested. “I’m not going home with anybody but Martin.”

  “But there’s no doctor here,” Mrs. Cantrell protested. “And anyone can see you’re in need of one.”

  Sunny wanted to shake the melodramatic woman.

  “She’s having a baby, that’s all,” Nan said. “She’ll be fine. Mrs. Ashford helped birth my little Pearl Louise not too long ago.”

  Mrs. Cantrell looked as if she wanted to say more—much more—but evidently realized that she couldn’t disparage Mrs. Ashford in her own home. So she turned on Nan. “You obviously are the kind of hefty woman who has no trouble with childbearing, but my Ophelia is so delicate.”

  Sunny caught the insult and gasped.

  Ophelia sat up on the sofa. “Mother! Why have you come?”

  “Because I thought by now you’d realize that you don’t belong here.”

  “I belong wherever my husband is.”

  Sunny realized why Ophelia had married so young and had been willing to leave for the frontier. Mrs. Cantrell struck her as a bad dream.

  Finally, when Ophelia burst into tears over her mother’s unkind words, the younger woman who had arrived with Mrs. Cantrell stepped into the room and cleared her throat. “I think, Auntie, it would be best if we returned to the riverboat now. Your daughter needs peace and some rest. And our noon meal will be served soon.”

  This precise and very cool speech caught Mrs. Cantrell in midstream. She blinked.

  The young woman, who was also dressed stylishly, looked to Martin. “Martin, why don’t you convey Ophelia home and then return to town and take us out to see your place? I know I’m eager to meet your friends and see how much you’ve accomplished. That’s why we came.” The young woman emphasized ever so slightly the last sentence.

  Sunny waited for a backlash—in vain. Mrs. Cantrell swallowed several times and then pinned a painfully artificial smile on her face. “An excellent idea, Ellen. I’m afraid finding Ophelia in such straits discomposed me.”

  Her head resting on the back of the sofa, Ophelia spoke up. “Everyone, this is my cousin, Miss Ellen Thurston. I’m happy to see you, Ellen.”

  Ellen inclined her head to all politely and gestured for the older woman to precede her down the stairs. Ellen then turned to Mrs. Ashford. “Thank you so much for opening your charming home to strangers like us. So kind.”

  Beaming at the compliment, Mrs. Ashford accepted the younger woman’s thanks and showed the ladies down the staircase. Ophelia looked to Martin and burst into fresh tears of frustration as soon as her mother was gone.

  Nan sat down and put her arms around her. “There, there,” she murmured, “this is just commotion, that’s all. We’ll all smile about it in the future.”

  Sunny thought that would be much, much further in the future. Maybe when they were grandmothers.

  Martin looked chagrined, but said gently, “Are you able to go downstairs?”

  Ophelia held out both her hands. “Oh, Martin, I’m so sorry. I hate the way she talks to you.”

  He took her hands and helped her up. “Now, Mrs. Osbourne is exactly right. This is all sound and fury, nothing to concern you. Your mother is ju
st being herself—I’m only grateful I’m married to you, not her.” He shepherded his wife to the stairs and over her protests, carried her down.

  “What next?” Nan asked, shaking her head. “I got an aunt just like Ophelia’s mother—loves an audience. Shoulda gone on the stage.”

  Sunny laughed out loud and then put her hand over her mouth. And the two of them followed the young couple downstairs and outside. What next indeed?

  Sunny recalled her mother’s pretty face and sweet smile. Warmed, she knew her mother would have loved Noah, loved seeing Sunny and Dawn with him. I still haven’t been able to tell him I love him. A sad thought, one that prodded her.

  * * *

  Later that day Noah remained dressed in his Sunday best, as did Sunny. They sat on a bench just outside their door, enjoying the spring day. The gloomy layer of clouds had blown away and now the sun shone down and a breeze fluttered the leaves overhead. Sunny was beside him, Dawn asleep on his lap, Neechee lying at his feet. He recognized it as a moment of contentment, something he’d not felt for a long time.

  Martin had made a plan for the afternoon with the Osbournes, and with Noah and Sunny. He would drive his mother-in-law and Ellen Thurston to his homestead and then on their way back to the river, stop to visit Noah and Sunny. Gordy had been invited to come also. Strength in numbers, Noah thought.

  Martin had muttered to Noah and Gordy that his mother-in-law was the main reason he had headed for Wisconsin. The woman considered herself among the leading lights in Galena society and deemed Ophelia to have married beneath her. Martin had Noah’s sincere sympathy.

  Neechee stood up and barked once. “Well, Neechee’s right. I hear a wagon coming.”

  Nodding, Noah stroked Dawn’s fine hair. The little one had fallen asleep in his lap after lunch. She didn’t stir now.

  Sunny smiled at the babe. Noah’s fingers brushed Sunny’s cheek. He tried to ignore the urge to lean forward and follow the touch with a kiss. These feelings startled him.

  “I feel sorry for Martin,” Noah muttered.

  Sunny had stayed very still after he brushed her soft cheek. Now she sighed as if releasing some pent-up emotion. Looking as if she agreed.