“Please, Sarah—if I may call you Sarah—please, sit down.”
“I’ll stand, thank you.” She was not to be easily won over.
“Augusta and I own this hotel together. Until recently, my daughter, LisBeth, lived here. She’s married now, and we need help. We placed an ad in the paper, but it just appeared today, and we’ve had no response. Would you take the job?”
Jesse rushed ahead. “You’d be taking on LisBeth’s duties. That means helping us cook, clean rooms, garden—whatever’s required. We could give you room and board and…”
“What about Tom?” Sarah did not let Jesse finish.
“Tom can stay here too.”
Sarah stared at them, unbelieving. “Tom’s crippled. Can’t work much.”
“We know.”
“Why you want him, then?”
The specter of a little mound of stones receding into the distance rose in Jesse’s mind. She answered honestly. “When I was very young, I lost a little boy almost Tom’s age. His name was Jacob. If you stay, and Tom stays, then it’ll be just like God giving me my little boy back. I’ll get a second chance to have a little boy.”
Sarah squinted hard at Jesse’s face. “What happened to your little boy?”
“He fell under the wheels of our wagon. It ran over him.”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide and she whispered, “Tom was runned over by a wagon too. Only he didn’t die. It hurt his leg real bad. He ain’t never walked right since.”
Jesse blinked back tears. Augusta spoke up. “I’m not so gentle talking as Jesse, but I’d like to have you stay, too. You and Tom.”
Sarah surveyed the kitchen. She drove her bargain hard. “Can we have that room?”
“That’s part of the deal.”
“Will you leave the bed in it?”
Jesse fought back a smile. “Of course. It would be your bed. Yours and Tom’s. Although we might want Joseph to build a trundle to slide underneath for Tom. That way you could each have your own bed.”
Her own bed represented more wealth than Sarah had ever hoped for. It sealed the deal. “We’ll stay,” she said matter-of-factly. “What you want me to do first?”
“First,” Jesse said softly, “let Tom sleep a little longer. Second, come with me and I’ll show you the hotel and teach you some of the things we do as we go through the rooms.”
Augusta started up the stove while Jesse walked Sarah through the house, showing her the dining room, the west wing, and Augusta’s quarters. “We’d like to add on, but we’d need to hire more help. So we’re not sure what to do. For the moment, we’re just going to stay small. We’re not getting any younger.”
“You ain’t so old, ma’am,” said Sarah. “Yer wrinkled some, but yer hair’s not all white yet. You took those stairs real good. You ain’t so old.” Jesse stifled a laugh, cleared her throat, and thanked Sarah for the compliment.
Back in the kitchen, Augusta found that Sarah knew a lot about kitchens and nothing about dining rooms. “She’ll have to help behind the scenes for a while,” Augusta advised Jesse later in the day. “Can you handle the dining room alone?”
Jesse assented. “Of course. It’ll be better at first if Tom is within sight of Sarah, anyway, until they get used to us.”
But Tom became instantly at home in Hathaway House. Limping happily from table to sink, he worked hard every day until his leg began to hurt and he was forced to sit down. Jesse and Augusta asked Doc Patton to stop by and look at the boy’s leg.
“A clear case of bumbled medicine,” he diagnosed. “No reason on earth why that boy shouldn’t have healed just fine. Some doctor just didn’t care enough to set it properly. He’ll limp for the rest of his life, poor boy.”
Jesse smiled. “It’s all right. We’ll give Tom a chance in life, anyway. I’m enrolling him with Miss Griswall tomorrow. I think he’s a bright boy. Perhaps God has other plans for Tom Biddle.”
“Miss Griswall will do her best for him, I’m sure,” the doctor agreed. “She’s such a nice woman.”
Thirty-three
For love is strong as death.—Song of Solomon 8:6
Aunt Jesse! What’s wrong?!” Sarah and Jesse were scrubbing bedsheets in the lean-to Joseph had built onto the back of the kitchen. Suddenly Jesse’s face went white. She sat down abruptly, holding a clenched fist over her heart.
Sarah was terrified. “I’ll get Aunt Augusta!”
“No!” Jesse gasped. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort. She’ll get all flustered and worry over me and drive me crazy. Just let me rest a minute. It’ll pass.”
Jesse breathed deeply, and as she had predicted, in a few seconds, the pain was gone. She smiled brightly. “Now, see there? I told you it would pass. Now we’d better get this wash done, or Augusta will have our hides!” Jesse returned to the washing. When they had finished, however, a great weariness settled over her.
“Sarah, I’m going in to lie down for just a few minutes. I must have quilted too late last night!”
Sarah worried and wondered what to do. When Tom came in from school, she put her finger over her mouth and pulled him into their room. “Something’s wrong with Aunt. But she said not to tell Aunt Augusta. I think she needs to see the doctor!”
Tom considered the news, frowning. Then, his face brightened.
“I know! I’ll pretend my leg’s really hurting bad. Aunt Jesse’ll call the doctor for me—then he can see her too!”
The next day when Tom came in from school, he limped badly and sat at the table, rubbing his leg.
“What’s wrong, Tom?” Jesse asked.
“Oh, nuthin’.” Tom grimaced dramatically.
“Does your leg hurt?”
“Maybe a little.”
Augusta interrupted. “I’ll have Doc Patton come right over!”
“Aw, I don’t need no doctor, Aunt Augusta. He can’t do nothin’ ’bout it anyhow.”
“Nonsense, Tom. If it hurts, then there’s something wrong. Doc Patton said it shouldn’t hurt much at all.” Augusta grabbed her bonnet and was out the door to fetch the doctor. Sarah and Tom looked at each other and smiled furtively. Jesse expressed her concern by ordering Tom to lie down and put his leg up on a pillow.
Sarah complained, “You baby him too much, Aunt Jesse.”
Jesse agreed. “I know. Guess I’m trying to make it up to him.”
Sarah was suddenly serious. “You’ve done enough already. You and Aunt Augusta. You gave us a home—you’ve been so nice to us we hardly know how to act. Now we’re glad about that orphan train we rode on.”
Jesse smiled warmly. “We’re glad, too. The two of you have filled a big empty space in both our hearts. Plus,” Jesse winked, “we needed the free labor to keep the place running!”
Sarah had grown secure in her place in the hotel over the months. She kidded back, “Yeah, and you work me like a horse too! I’m gonna be goin’ back to that orphanage one o’ these days, you two don’t treat me nicer!”
“You just try it, young lady!” Jesse taunted, shaking her finger at Sarah. “You’re not leavin’ this place—not ever!” She gathered Sarah up and hugged her. “We love you too much to let you go!”
Sarah had no response to that. She could kid and joke about her new home, but the word love was not in her vocabulary—yet. Augusta arrived with the doctor, and he hurried in to see Tom, with Jesse close behind.
“Where does it hurt, Tom?” Doc Patton asked.
“Oh, mostly here,” Tom said, pointing to his knee. The doctor worked the joint, checked for swelling, and found nothing. “Well, maybe it’s here,” Tom said, indicating his ankle. Again, the doctor examined. Again, he found nothing. Looking puzzled, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, just when did this pain start, Tom?”
“Yesterday.”
“Were you doing something new? Did you try to jump or run?”
“Nope.”
“What were you doing when it started to hurt?”
“Talkin’”’
&nb
sp; “Talking?”
“Yep. Talkin’ to Sarah.”
“What were you talking about, Tom?’
“Talkin’ about Aunt Jesse.”
“And your leg started to hurt?”
“Well, not ’xactly.”
“Well, what—exactly?” The doctor was growing impatient.
Tom sat up. “We was talkin’ ’bout how Aunt Jesse needs to see a doctor and how she won’t ’cause she don’t think it’s anything, and we thought that if you come to see me, then you could check Aunt Jesse, too, and figure out why her heart hurts.”
Augusta looked accusingly at Jesse. Doctor Patton smiled and patted Tom. “Pretty smart, Tom, pretty smart.”
Turning to Jesse he said, “Now, Mrs. King, perhaps you would like to clarify this issue?”
Cornered, Jesse was forced to talk. “Well, maybe I have had a few spells lately.”
Augusta blustered, “And why haven’t I heard about this?!”
“Because it’s probably nothing, that’s why. Just a few times—a little pain—that’s all.”
“Any other symptoms, Mrs. King?”
“No, not to speak of.”
Augusta butted in. “You’ve been real tired lately, Jesse.”
“Oh, that. Just working too hard, doctor. I just need to get in a little more rest, that’s all.”
“Jesse King,” Augusta insisted. “When you’re too tired to work on a quilt, there’s something wrong! Now you’ve had that quilt in the frame for weeks, and it’s hardly started. If you were yourself, you’d have it bound and another one started by now. And don’t think I don’t know it!”
“All right, all right, Augusta.” Jesse turned to the doctor. “I’ll come in to see you tomorrow. These three will never give me a moment’s peace if I don’t.”
Satisfied, the doctor stood up to go. Jesse scolded Sarah and Tom. “And you two! Scandalous behavior—wasting the doctor’s time—calling him over here—worrying Aunt Augusta!”
Tom spoke up. “But it worked. Didn’t it, Aunt Jesse?”
Jesse laughed. “I guess so, Tom. I guess it did.”
Jesse kept her promise and visited the doctor the next day. He asked her a few questions, listened to her heart, and frowned. He prescribed a few days of bed rest, no lifting, and greater attention to proper diet. Jesse thanked him for his kindness, paid the bill, and ignored his instructions. She convinced herself that she felt much better. Indeed, the pains seemed to have subsided altogether, and she was making progress on her quilt when Sarah came rushing in from an errand in town, the Evening Star in hand.
“Aunt Jesse! Aunt Augusta! Look!”
Augusta was not inclined to read the competitor’s newspaper. Then the headline caught her eye and she read: “Telegraphic—3:00 a.m.—The Indian War—Bloody news from Stillwater, Montana.—Gen. Custer and a large portion of his command reported massacred.—The red fiends kill the entire Custer family and butcher 300 soldiers.” Augusta grabbed the paper and went looking for Jesse, who was setting tables in the dining room.
“Jesse! Whose command did you say MacKenzie had joined last we heard?”
Jesse hesitated. “Goodness, Augusta, can’t say that I recall. He’s been moved around so much these past few months. Poor LisBeth is so sick of traveling. I surely hope Mac gets some leave soon, if things ever quiet down. I wish Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull would listen to Red Cloud.” Jesse paused. “Custer. I think that’s it. General George Custer. That’s Mac’s commanding officer.” Jesse had her back to Augusta and continued to make pleasant conversation. “LisBeth says he’s such a handsome man, and a meticulous dresser. She’s met his wife, too.” Just then Jesse turned and saw Augusta’s face.
“What is it?” her hand went to her throat. “What’s happened?”
“Better sit down,” came the order.
Jesse sat down, her heart thumping wildly. Augusta struggled to control her shaking voice as she read aloud:
“A battle was fought on the 25th thirty or forty miles below Little Big Horn. Custer attacked a village containing from 2,500 to 4,000 warriors. Custer, fifteen officers and every man belonging to five companies were killed. The battleground looked like a—”
Augusta abruptly stopped reading.
“Go on,” Jesse demanded. She raised one hand and pressed the palm to her chest in an unconscious effort to stop the pain that was building there. Reluctantly, Augusta read on:
“The battleground looked like a slaughter pen, as it really was. The dead were much mutilated… A special correspondent of the Helena Herald writes…”
As Augusta continued to read, Tom and Sarah moved to Jesse’s side. Each one put a concerned hand on Jesse’s shoulder.
Sarah said, “It’ll be all right, Aunt Jesse. MacKenzie probably got moved again. You said he’s been moved around a lot lately.”
Tom didn’t know what to say. He just kept patting Jesse’s shoulder.
Jesse put her elbow on the table and rested her forehead on one hand. Her face was hidden from Augusta. Her heart continued to thump wildly. All she could think of was LisBeth. LisBeth married just a year. LisBeth, who was so in love. Oh, Lord, surely LisBeth doesn’t have to go through what I did. There’s so much sorrow in the world, Lord, she’s not ready. She’s just too young to bear it. Jesse’s mind whirled. She looked up.
“LisBeth and MacKenzie may not be affected at all,” Augusta said hopefully.
“I know that,” Jesse croaked. “But then again, LisBeth—my beloved LisBeth—may have just learned that her new husband is dead in the ‘howling wilderness’ she didn’t want to go to.”
There it was—that feeling. It didn’t hurt; it just felt odd. Jesse pushed herself away from the table and went to her room. Sarah and Tom finished setting the tables. Augusta needed to talk. She called out the back door.
“Joseph!” Her faithful friend was never far away. He hurried over from the livery. “Joseph, Jesse and I just learned about the battle on the Little Big Horn. MacKenzie might have been there. Oh, Joseph, how will we bear it?”
Joseph thought for a moment. “We’ll bear it just like all the others, ma’am. Just one hour at a time, prayin’ and wonderin’ why, and trustin’ the Lord that He knows an’ does what’s best.”
Outside, the sound of a coming rainstorm threatened. Joseph murmured, “Good. We need rain.” He turned slowly to begin dishing up plates of food for the boarders that were already arriving.
The storm blew in with fury, hurling torrents of rain at the city and turning the dusty streets into a sea of mud. Tom Biddle sat at the kitchen table, writing a short essay assigned to him that day by that nice Miss Griswall.. He wrote with great care, “What I Like About Lincoln.”
Sarah rushed back and forth between dining room and kitchen, casting concerned glances toward Jesse’s room. There was no sound from that direction.
Well, at least she ain’t cryin’. I guess that’s somethin’.
Augusta threw her concern into her work, filling water glasses, pouring coffee, listening to every comment about the news that had just arrived. She strained her ears, as if by listening to the comments of the citizens of Lincoln she could learn whether or not MacKenzie Baird—young, handsome MacKenzie Baird—was one of those who lay dead on the battlefield so far away.
Only LisBeth knew. LisBeth, the lovely dark-haired young woman who had not long ago learned that she was half Lakota Indian and who longed to know more about her father—and to “help make a difference.” Swept up in affairs not of her making, LisBeth had received the news of MacKenzie’s fate, and was at that moment writing to her mother in Lincoln to tell her that she would be home soon.
Jesse lay on her back staring out the window. While the thunder roared she had poured her heart out to the Lord. Now the storm was over, and the silence came as abruptly as the thunder had rolled across the plains. She could hear the sounds of the supper hour—voices booming, silverware clanking, chairs scraping the floor as diners settled into their favorite place
s.
Got to get up now, Jesse thought. With tremendous effort she reached the edge of the mattress to pull herself upright. Got to get up to help Old One… Now why, she puzzled, after all these years, why’d I think that?
The name conjured up memories: an infant in a cradle board, propped up against a tepee pole, watching an old woman crush grain and mix a thin gruel. Her thoughts were confused. Jesse scolded herself. Addled old woman. I don’t need to help Old One do a thing. I do need to help Augusta, though. We’ve got to be ready when LisBeth gets home.
The sounds of dinner intruded again. Clutching the sides of the mattress, she pulled herself halfway up, panting with the effort. Why am I so tired all the time? Lazy old woman. But scold as she would, she knew she could not get up. Weariness settled on her, covered her, and swallowed the intent to go out to the kitchen. A dull pain filled her chest and flowed into one arm. Well, for today, anyway, she’d just stay in bed and rest. Settling under the quilt again, she sighed and turned her attention out the window.
The stormy black sky had faded to dark gray, and in the distance white, billowing clouds blew across the prairie. They began racing one another, tossed by the wind, and the sun shining on them made them appear a brilliant white against the evening sky.
Memories crowded about her: a French trader with laughing eyes; a long ride into Fort Kearney; and somewhere, far back, a little mound of stones receding into the wide plain as a wagon rumbled away. Then he came, a Lakota brave, one with his snow white pony. They bounded together across the sky, and with each leap Jesse’s heart fluttered. She stood on the prairie, her long red braids decorated with feathers, the part dusted with ochre. She raised a trembling hand in greeting, but he was gone.
Her hand fell back against the quilt, and Jesse saw the clouds again and realized it had only been a memory. She was an old woman, too tired to help with the supper, perhaps even too tired to be of use to LisBeth.
The clouds outside came closer, and the old heart fluttered at the memory of a man who rode on the wind long ago. Now it seemed that he rode again across the sky, into the room. He raised one hand in greeting.
Walks the Fire Page 29
