Mountain Echoes
by Jennifer Uhlarik
Dedication:
To my beloved son, Zachary. I could not have asked for a greater blessing in life than to be your mom. You have been my constant companion, and there hasn’t been a dull moment since you arrived. I love your heart for God, your kind spirit, and your wonderful sense of humor. Thank you for making my life so rich!
Chapter One
Virginia City, Utah Territory Late October 1862
Lord, I wish he’d brought the boy last night.
A quick tug in Hannah Rose Stockton’s chest stopped her frustrated pacing on the Pioneer Stagecoach Company’s porch. She shot a glance heavenward. “Forgive me. I have no right to be upset when Dr. Tompkins was attending to a dying patient, but would You please make sure he gets the child here before the stage leaves?”
She sat on a wooden bench and scanned the street, burrowing deeper into her cloak to ward off the predawn chill. The hulking silhouette of the empty Concord stagecoach stood a few feet away, and silent buildings lined the street. All was still.
She’d been honored to be chosen by the principal of the California Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb and Blind for such an important journey—to pick up their newest student, twelve-year-old Travis Alcott. However, the boy would likely be frightened about leaving his home. She needed time to befriend him, earn some trust before they boarded the stage for the three-day journey to San Francisco.
The door to the dimly lit office opened, and her dour, silver-haired traveling companion, Edwina Jamison, leaned out. “Hannah Rose, please come inside. It’s hardly proper for a woman to sit alone outside at this time of day. Besides, they will have our breakfast ready shortly.”
Hannah chafed at Mrs. Jamison’s use of her middle name. Papa had been the only one to call her Hannah Rose, though she’d taken to calling herself that in order to draw on his strength and wisdom. It wasn’t worth correcting the woman. “I’ll be in momentarily. I’d like to pray before the day begins.”
“God can hear you just as well inside as out, child.”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes, ma’am, but I find it easier to pray without the clanging of dishes and the other passengers’ conversations. I promise I’ll be in momentarily.”
Mrs. Jamison nodded hesitantly. “All right then, but hurry. I wouldn’t want something to happen.”
The door clicked shut, and Hannah rolled her eyes. “I’m thirty years old, Mrs. Jamison. Nothing will happen, and I don’t need a chaperone.” For goodness’ sake, she’d traveled by wagon train from Illinois to California by herself. She certainly could’ve taken the stage from San Francisco to Virginia City without the opinionated widow’s companionship. However, the principal had insisted, and if Hannah hoped to be considered for a promotion to a teaching position within the school, it was best to do as her employer asked.
Hannah closed her eyes. “Lord, forgive my uncharitable thoughts. It was kind of Mrs. Jamison to come along. Thank You for Your provision, even when I don’t think I need it. Please allow the return leg of the journey to be as uneventful as the ride from San Francisco.”
“Reckon it will be iffen I have anything to say about it.”
Hannah jumped to her feet, heart ratcheting into a gallop at the deep male voice. Near the building’s corner, a tall man’s outline emerged, though she couldn’t distinguish his features due to his hat.
“Couldn’t help hearing you pray.”
Her cheeks burning, she settled a palm against her chest. “I didn’t realize I had company.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am. Reckon we had the same thought. Enjoy a quiet moment before the day begins. I’ll find somewhere else to choke down Alice’s coffin varnish—err, coffee.” He hoisted a cup, steam wafting from its lip. He turned toward the alley. “Just so you to know…I’m the jehu on this run. You got my pledge I’ll get you safely where you’re goin’.”
She stifled a chuckle. How was anyone to trust stagecoach drivers when they were called jehus after the Israelite king known for driving furiously? She sat once more. “Thank you for the assurance, sir.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He headed down the alley.
At the far end of the street, a one-horse buggy turned toward her, the clip-clop of hooves echoing between the buildings. Hannah stepped toward the railing, craning her neck to see. A single lantern lit the path and illuminated two passengers, one smaller than the other. A child, perhaps? Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of meeting her young charge. The buggy stopped, and a suit-clad man swung to the ground.
Hannah stepped closer. “Are you Dr. Tompkins?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “You’re Miss Stockton?”
“Yes.”
The doctor moved around the conveyance and motioned for a half-grown child to climb down. The boy shot a hollow glance her way, ignoring the man. She smiled and met his eyes, though he looked directly ahead once more.
“This is Travis Alcott, the boy I wrote to you about.” The doctor guided the boy out of the wagon and bent to his level. “Say hello to the lady.” He overenunciated each word.
Travis scowled and shifted away.
Dr. Tompkins shot her an apologetic glance. “Sorry. Since losing his hearing, he wavers between anger and withdrawal.”
She resisted correcting the man for his exaggerated speech. She’d frown and turn away from such ridiculous behavior, too. Hannah smiled at Travis. “We will teach him to communicate again.” She paused. “Has he eaten breakfast?”
“Doubt it. The boy’s ma is long deceased. His pa stays too drunk to care for the boy properly, especially since Travis went deaf.”
Hannah’s eyes stung. How hard the child’s life must have been. Thankfulness for her own loving parents washed over her.
Again, the office door opened, and Mrs. Jamison looked out. “Hannah, dear. The meal is—oh.” Her gaze fell on the newcomers. “Is this the boy?”
“Yes. We were just coming inside.” Hannah stepped toward the door, and Dr. Tompkins guided Travis inside.
After the introductions, Hannah shifted toward Travis. She smiled and gave him a friendly wave. “Hello, Travis. I’m Hannah Stockton.” She pointed to her chest then finger-spelled her name as she spoke.
The boy’s brown eyes flitted between her face and her hand, though before she finished, he looked away and inhaled deeply, seemingly caught by the scents of pancakes and coffee wafting from the next room.
Hannah touched his shoulder, and he whipped around, his mop of dark hair falling in his eyes.
“Do you want to eat?” She signed the question, hoping he’d understand the self-explanatory gestures.
Expressionless, he looked toward the door where the smells originated. Beyond it, the sounds of chairs scooting across the plank floor and the clanking of dishes filled the room.
“Why isn’t he answering her?” Mrs. Jamison asked. “Your letter said he could still speak.”
“He’s capable of speaking, but he rarely does. Illness rendered him profoundly deaf, so he doesn’t understand what’s being said. Also, his father’s neglected him. He’s not used to talking much.”
Hannah’s chest ached as she studied the boy’s hollow cheeks, smudged with grime. His clothes were rumpled and dirty. His coat sleeves were far too short for his growing limbs, and the hem of his pant legs were worn to tatters. One shoe sported a hole in the toe.
Lord, how long since this child’s been properly cared for? How long since he’s been loved?
Travis ambled toward the doorway and, after peeking around the door frame, bolted into the room beyond. Hannah scurried after him, catching up as he leaned past a burly, bearded man at the table who was passing a heaping plate of pancakes. She caught Travis’s hand before he could grab a flapjack. The boy faced her, brown eyes hard.
“No.” She shook her head then held up a finger. “First, wash your hands.” She pantomimed the action then held up two
fingers. “Second, wash your face.” Again, she acted the required action. “Third, eat.”
Rather than watch her, the boy scanned the table and moved after the circulating plate of food. One of the men on the end stopped him.
“Yer ma told you to do—”
Travis ducked the man’s grasp, trailing the pancakes. All eyes at the table followed Travis. When he made another grab for the last few flapjacks, Hannah again caught his arm. This time, he jerked free, glared at her, and stomped a foot.
The burly fellow rose, drawing Travis’s attention, and stabbed a finger in Travis’s direction. “Son, I’m about to wear you out unless you start listenin’ to yer ma.”
Hannah threw her hands up. “Thank you, sir, but he’s deaf. He doesn’t understand. Please let me handle this.”
“Travis!” From the doorway, Dr. Tompkins stomped into the room, Mrs. Jamison close on his heels.
The boy must have felt the heavy footsteps, for he looked at the floor then scanned the room, focusing on the doctor.
Again, Hannah held up a hand. “Please, sir, stop. If you expect me to transport this child three days to the school, we must build a rapport before we board the stage.”
The doctor halted. Focus at the table shifted between her and Travis, expressions ranging from surprise to disbelief.
“You ain’t his ma?” the burly man asked, incredulous.
“No. I’m taking him to San Francisco to attend a deaf school. Please forgive us for interrupting your breakfast. Carry on, and we’ll try to stay out of your way.”
The blond man on the end disappeared through another door on the far side of the room. Once he was gone, Travis headed toward the man’s vacant seat and partially eaten breakfast. Hannah failed to reach him before he’d scooped the top pancake from the stack.
She smacked his hand lightly and guided him toward the washbasin near the door. Travis gobbled the syrupy flapjack in two huge bites. Behind her, the men murmured, some sounding none too happy at having to ride the stage with such an ill-behaved imp.
Heat warming her cheeks, Hannah positioned the boy’s hands over the basin and poured water over his sticky palms. She placed the soap cake in his hands, though he dropped it to face the table again. Thankfully, the blond-haired man approached and caught Travis gently by the arm. He spun the boy, fished the soap from the basin, and proceeded to lather Travis’s hands.
The boy watched the blond man without a fight.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Travis stole some of your breakfast,” she whispered.
He chuckled softly. “I saw him.”
She smiled, recognizing the voice of the jehu. Lantern light caught his deep blue eyes as his gaze met hers, and something akin to lightning crackled through her head and limbs. When he shifted, the sensation dissolved, and along with it, every coherent thought she’d had.
“Alice is cooking up more flapjacks for you all. She’ll have ’em out momentarily.”
Mute, Hannah nodded. Say something. “That would be perfect, Mister …?”
His smile deepened, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners. “Finn McCaffrey.”
“Thank you, Mr. McCaffrey.” She offered a demure smile and took the towel he held out. “I’m Hannah Rose Stockton.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Stockton.”
She busied herself drying Travis’s hands. “It’s Miss.”
The woman’s cheeks flushed a shade of red to rival her fiery hair.
“My mistake.” Finn opened his mouth to speak again, when the familiar form of a petite, brown-haired woman stepped through the door. At the sight of her, his chest seized. “Pardon me a moment.”
Finn brushed past Miss Stockton and hurried toward the doorway. “Sam?” He caught Samantha Foster by the elbow and showed her into the empty office. “What’re you doing here? Is everything all right?” His thoughts flew over the reasons she might come to the stagecoach office before dawn, and one filtered to the top. “Ezra?” He breathed the name.
“Papa’s fine.”
Thank You, Lord. He closed his eyes and rubbed at the tension knotting his neck and shoulders. After a calming breath, he opened his eyes once more. “What brings you out so early?” He kept his voice low.
“I need to tell you something, and I didn’t want to wait until you returned.”
Guilt flooded him. He should’ve spent the night at their homestead outside of town, but it was hard watching Ezra weaken each time he visited. “Sorry I didn’t come by. Your news must be pretty important.”
Sam hung her head.
When she didn’t speak, he tucked a finger under her chin and nudged it upward until their eyes met. “So?”
Tears pooled against her lower lashes, and she swallowed hard. “I’m with child.”
Finn blinked once…twice…his mind churning over the unexpected declaration. “You’re what?”
“I’m with child.” Her voice rose a little.
Finn darted a concerned look toward the dining room. “Shh. I heard you. I just—” Oh, God, help us both. He gritted his teeth and dragged her toward the front door.
“Please don’t be angry.” Her words dripped a mixture of fear and concern.
He burst out onto the porch and shut the door so hard the windows on either side rattled. For an instant, he stood stock-still, fighting the urge to put his fist through the wall. A couple of deep breaths restored some control, and he pulled the young woman into his arms.
“I’m not angry at you.” He closed his eyes. “That good-for-nothing husband of yours, on the other hand …” Denny Foster had drifted in and out of Sam’s life whenever he saw fit. Of course, the yellow-bellied fool would choose a time like this to drift again. “Iffen the scoundrel was here, I’d wrap my hands around his scrawny neck and choke the—”
Sam shoved back from him, her eyes huge.
A shudder ran through him. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry.” Lord, forgive me.
Eventually, she slid back into his arms. “I’m scared, Finn. What do I know about being someone’s mama?”
A sudden, sharp pain lodged in his chest. They’d both done without a mother’s influence, though he at least remembered his ma. He rubbed Sam’s back. “You’ll make a fine ma, and Ezra and I’ll help all we can.”
“I haven’t told Papa.”
Finn’s brows knitted. “You’re gonna have to. This ain’t something you can hide for long.”
“I will, but his heart is so weak, I didn’t want to cause him any further distress.” She shrugged. “Besides, I was hoping you’d be there when I break the news.”
Finn sighed. That conversation would require careful thought and well-chosen words. “I’ll be wherever you need me.”
From the direction of the corral, faint voices drifted their way. The clopping of horses’ hooves punctuated the air. Probably the hostlers preparing the team. A quick glance toward the sky revealed the horizon had brightened to a light gray.
“Reckon I better get on my work. Gotta check the stage before we pull out.”
Sam hugged him tighter, then released him. “I should get back to Papa anyway.” Her attempt at a smile quivered and twisted into a grim expression, tears pooling again.
His mind raced to find a way he could stay in Virginia City and attend to the new situation, but getting another driver moments before a run wasn’t possible. He matched her grim expression. “We’ll talk once I return.”
She nodded. “Please be careful.”
Finn planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You know I will.”
He helped Sam into her wagon and watched as she turned the team toward home. Once the darkness swallowed her, he retrieved a lantern from the office and began the inspection. Starting at the nearest wheel, he perused the hub and the spokes but shook his head to clear Sam’s predicament from his thoughts. Again, he checked the front wheel and axle, the leather thoroughbrace that cradled the coach’s body, and the back wheel and axle. Rounding the coach, Finn repeated the process. By the time he�
��d finished, the eastern sky had grown bright. The hostlers had the team harnessed and ready. The passengers waited on the porch, their bags near the rear boot for loading.
At the edge of the group, Miss Stockton stood beside her student, who stared intently at the team. She touched the boy’s shoulder and made various gestures as she spoke softly to him. Hands crammed in his pockets, the boy looked away. Finn watched a moment longer. When the kid’s gaze once more found its way to the team, he grinned. The boy appeared to like horses. He could relate.
From his own pocket, Finn withdrew several jagged chunks of sugar he’d broken from the sugar loaf at breakfast, then approached Miss Stockton. “Ma’am?”
She turned wide hazel eyes on him. “Yes?”
“I usually treat the horses to a little sugar before a run. Maybe the boy might like to help me?” He revealed the sugar pieces.
A smile parted her lips. “He’d like that. Thank you.” She turned to the boy and gestured. “Travis, would you like to feed the horses?”
Finn placed a single piece of sugar in Travis’s palm, and the boy’s brows furrowed. Beckoning to the kid, he stepped toward the nearest horse. Eyes riveted, Travis followed.
Finn helped the boy feed each horse and stood by as he rubbed their necks. When the lead horse nudged Travis’s chest with his nose, the boy loosed a deep belly laugh and gave that animal extra attention. Miss Stockton grinned each time Finn glanced at her.
Once he’d returned Travis to Miss Stockton, he gave the call to load up. While the rest of the passengers piled into the coach, the doctor took Travis by the shoulders and bent, nose to nose with the kid. “You mind yourself, son.” He spoke in a slow, exaggerated way. “These ladies’ll take good care of you from now on.”
The boy scowled and shrugged out of the man’s grasp. When the gent tried again to take him by the shoulders, Travis rocked back a step and darted down the boardwalk at full speed.
“No you don’t—” The doctor gave chase and, three steps beyond, caught Travis by the waist. The kid’s hat tumbled off, and his feet flew out from under him. A frustrated scream escaped the child as he writhed to free himself.
The Courageous Brides Collection Page 40
