Coffin To Lie On

by Risner, Fay

  The sound of walking horse hooves ceased. Restless stomps followed. Miranda squeezed her eyes tightly shut to keep from crying. The end of her life was near. All she could do was wonder why she hadn’t been wise enough to start this journey more prepared. If only she could do it over, she’d have ask Anselm to teach her what she needed to know to survive in this wilderness. Though now that she had a taste of what it was like in Willamette Valley, she knew she probably would have talked Anselm out of coming.

  Drained of energy, she looked up at the canvas top waving between the hoops in the gentle breeze and prayed her life would end swiftly. Her prayer was interrupted by the whistled tune Old Dan Tucker.

  For the first time since Anselm had walked off and left her, Miranda lost the lonesome, whippoorwill feeling. Tears of relief and joy streamed down her face as she eased herself from a sitting position to greet her husband. She opened the canvas and saw Anselm dismounting from his lathered up horse. The man had run his poor horse hard to get back to her as quickly as he could.

  Miranda climbed out of the wagon and collapsed in Anselm's arms. His face was solemn as he stared at the wolf carcass.

  Perhaps, he was surprised Miranda made the trip in fine shape, considering her health problems. If so, he has to be amazed at her stamina when she told him about fighting off wolves all night.

  Anselm seemed relieved she hadn't been killed during the night. She must have looked pretty frazzled, because he told her to go to bed in the tent and stay there until she felt like getting up.

  She protested she'd be all right now that he was back, but he told her she had to think about the baby.

  Chapter 11

  Work had always been a priority with Anselm, but he lit into work now with a passion Miranda had never seen in him before. He cleared his land and planted all the young trees in his orchard. He turned the cattle loose to graze, so he had to keep an eye on them for fear they would stray too far away. He cut trees to build split rail fences to keep the cattle in and split wood for cooking and winter fires.

  In between his work at home, Anselm spent time at the other farms, helping put up houses and barns while he waited his turn for the men to help him.

  In the mean time, Miranda had to make do with living in the tent and sleeping on the ground. She had it figured she had one month to go before the baby came.

  Finally, men came to help build a house and outbuildings for them. Anselm was last to get buildings since his farm was last one next to the mountain range to the west. The men agreed it was a relief when everyone had a roof over their heads. The last building they would work together on would be the meeting house built in a central location.

  Sarie Lee, with Jefferson Davis in tow, was the only woman to show up to help Miranda prepare the meals for the men. The wives sent food with the men that needed warmed. The men excused there was too much to do at home, and the women hated to travel so far with the younguns now the days were chilly.

  Miranda wondered if that was the real reason. Maybe the women thought Miranda was too lazy to cook. They put out the effort to send covered dishes just because they wanted to make sure their men didn't go hungry while they worked so hard.

  If they had a choice, the women probably wouldn't have sent the food because of their dislike for her. To feed their men, they offered food begrudgingly. The more she thought about it, Miranda was sure she was right.

  When the men stopped to rest and eat the noon meal, Anselm noticed Florian Bjornson hadn't come to help. He asked Clarence Swensen, sitting on the ground next to him, if he had seen Florian lately.

  Clarence's face grew long. “I dought you might haf heard by now about his accident. Florian died.”

  Anselm gasped. “Na, I didn't hear about dat. Vat happened to him?”

  “De crazy fool couldn't wait for us to show up to help him. He tried to cut logs by himself. One tree vas on a slope. Florian cut it and took off running, but his feet must haf slipped out from under him. He fell down de slope, and de tree landed on top of him.”

  Miranda's hand flew to her chest as she poured Clarence a cup of coffee. “How awful!”

  “It iss dat. His wife went to check on him about dark ven he didn't come home. By dat time, a wild animal had gnawed on poor Florian. He vas missing an arm.”

  “Hopefully, de man was gone before dat happened,” Anselm said, looking pained.

  “I hope so,” Clarence stated.

  “It does not seem like de poor man vas meant to travel dis far from home for a new life. First, he almost dies from an Indian's arrow, and now dis,” Anselm said.

  “What will his wife, Birgit, do now?” Miranda asked.

  “She had one of her neighbors escort her to Portland. She went to Pennsylvania where she has folks.”

  “Sat iss for de best,” Anselm said. “Dis iss no life for a woman alone.”

  Until the last log was set in the groves, hollow whacks resounded in the timber as axes cut down the trees.

  The yells of TIMBER echoed against the mountains, were followed by the crashing shudder of fallen trees, breaking boughs and smashing bushes.

  A shiver went through Miranda's body with each of the fallen trees. She prayed that the men were working safely as she thought about what happened to Florian Bjornson.

  Miranda hadn't been given a say in the size of their house or how it would look, but she approved when she watched the building take shape. She rubbed her aching back and smiled at Anselm when he glanced her way.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Sarie Lee asked in concern.

  “Yes, but I seemed to be always tired,” Miranda complained, giving her a weak smile. “Another thing worries me. I don't know anything about having a baby, but I have never felt the baby move. Do you think that is natural?”

  Sarie Lee looked puzzled. “It is odd, but I wouldn't get the worries. There must be a good reason. Y'all have been through a lot over the last few months. Ya are bound to be tired and just not payin' attention when the baby kicks.

  As for feelin' tired, that's to be expected, cause yer carryin' a lot around in front of ya. Yer time is almost here,” Sarie Lee reasoned. “Y'all are probably doin' too much and on yer feet way too long at a time. Why don't ya sit down while I see to the vittles for supper?”

  “I hate to put you to all that trouble since you were kind enough to come help me,” Miranda said.

  “Nonsense. That's what I came for. Please, let me do this. How much time you figure you got left?” Sarie Lee asked as she set the kettles back on the cook fire.

  “I think I'm due to deliver any time,” Miranda said, staring at the walls going up on the house. “I'll be so glad to have a roof over my head and a bed to be in when the birthing time comes. Sometimes, I didn't think that was ever going to happen.”

  “You send for me with the first pains so I can hep you,” Sarie Lee ordered.

  “I hate to have you come way over here,” Miranda said.

  “It won't bother me none. Not knowin' how you're doin' will bother me somethin' fierce. You need a woman here when yer time comes,” Sarie Lee insisted.

  “I suppose I do. Anselm sure wouldn't be much help. All he knows about birthing concerns his animals,” Miranda said with a chuckle. Then her expression turned serious as she studied Sarie Lee's face. “How are you feeling these days? I know you must have moments when you think about Bobby Lee and miss him.”

  Sarie Lee nodded slowly with moist eyes. “I'm so busy durin' the day I get along fine. It's after we go to bed when I have time to think and cry a little. The worse part is the awful dreams I have sometimes. I wake myself up to the sound of my voice cryin' out for Wilbur to save Bobby Lee. That's if Wilbur don't beat me to it by wakin' me up. He allows he cain't hardly stand to see me suffer.

  In my dreams, I see the boy fallin' as plain as day and reach for him, but I'm never quick enough. I break out wringin' wet with sweat when I hear him scream. I see the wagon wheel go over him. Them dreams happen again and again just like it w
as this very day.”

  “Poor dear, you're having a tough time of it. I'm so very sorry you've had to go through all this. I know how much you must miss Bobby Lee. Hopefully, the bad dreams will come less and less as time goes by,” Miranda advised.

  “That's what Wilbur tells me. We hopin' by spring me havin' a baby will help me get over Bobby Lee's death,” Sarie Lee said, giving Miranda a bashful smile.

  “Oh, my! What great news this is! Our children will be the same age. They will grow up together. How nice,” Miranda said. “Well then, I will let you come help me with my birthing if you let me help you with yours. Is that a deal?”

  “I'd say that's a right smart deal, Sarie Lee replied gleefully.

  “Well, you won't have an expert with me for help, but I will at least know something about what to do after watching you,” Miranda said.

  When the house was completed, Anselm joined them. He asked Miranda, “You want to go through your new home and see vat it looks like?”

  “You bet I do. Come with me, Sarie Lee.” She grabbed Sarie Lee's hand and followed Anselm.

  When they stepped inside, Anselm said, “Dis first big room is de kitchen, dining room and living room. Come vit me.” He lead them down a hall with a door on each side. “Dere is two bedrooms. One for us and one for the baby. Vat do you dink?”

  Miranda smiled at him. “I think this is a great house. What do you think, Sarie Lee?”

  Sarie Lee gasped. “This is a right nice house. I hate to have you see my dinky place after seeing this one. I think I'd get lost in a house this big right off. Ours ain't this big yet, but Wilbur plans on addin' a room to it in the spring.”

  Anselm chuckled, pleased that the women liked the house.

  Chapter 12

  About a week later, Anselm finished building the bed and table. He strung the ropes across the bed rails, and Miranda laid the straw tick on it. She hurried to make the bed with the bedding she stored in the coffin. As she stood surveying the new bed, she could hardly contain her joy at having a soft bed to sleep in.

  Miranda stacked the pots and dishes on the floor while she waited for Anselm to build the cupboards. Her fine china was the last items out of the coffin, and she placed each piece gently in one of the crates until Anselm had time to build a sideboard.

  The fireplace was where she would cook until they made a trip to town for the cook stove. The table Anselm built was a long one with two long bench seats. That was all the furniture he wanted to make until he got more time in the winter.

  Miranda rubbed her back, stiff and achy from all the bending over, as she sat down at the table. Anselm brought her a cup of coffee and himself one. “Ve might as vell sit and rest a minute to try out our new table,” he said, smiling at her.

  “It is a fine table. Large enough to feed plenty of company at and for me a work area to knead bread and such,” Miranda praised.

  “Ja,” Anselm agreed.

  “I've unpacked the pine …..,” Miranda hesitated. “Box. Could you find a place to store it?”

  “Ja,” Anselm replied, patting her hand. “I vill put it in de tool shed I built. It vill be useful to hold plenty of dings dere.”

  A few mornings later, Miranda felt a twinge of pain while she was washing breakfast dishes. She dried her hands and rubbed her swelled stomach. The pain went away. A few minutes, later the twinge was back. She kept busy, trying to ignore the pain until the twinges became harder and stayed longer.

  When Anselm came in for lunch, he didn't see his wife. “Miranda.”

  “I'm in here,” Miranda called from the bedroom.

  Anselm rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

  “Not really. You better go for Sarie Lee. It's my time,” Miranda said, trying to smile.

  Anselm looked scared. “Iss it safe to leave?”

  “Yes, I promise to stay on the bed until you get back. Whatever happens, I will be right here when it does. So hurry now,” Miranda said urgently.

  It was after dark when Anselm returned with Sarie Lee. Miranda never knew how late it was. She was in more pain than she could ever imagine going through in one of her lies.

  Anselm followed Sarie Lee into the bedroom. The younger woman took Miranda's hand. “I'm here. How is it goin'?”

  Miranda opened her eyes and licked her dry lips. “Pains are closer together and pretty hard.”

  “You need a drink,” Sarie Lee said, pouring water from the pitcher by the bed into a tin cup.

  Miranda took a sip. “That did help. Sarie Lee, I have a stack of towels and rags on the end of the bed. The water is heating on the fire, but tea kettle may be about boiled dry.”

  Anselm spoke up. “I vill attend to de vater.”

  “My, he disappeared in a hurry,” Miranda said, with a weak smile.

  “Just like my man does when it comes to birthin,” Sarie Lee agreed. “You mind if I take a peek under the cover to see how you're comin' along?

  Miranda was shaking her head when she let out a scream and gripped the headboard.

  “Breathe as deep as ya can and kind of fast like a dog pantin'. Sometimes that helps,” Sarie Lee advised.

  Miranda tried panting while Sarie Lee raised the covers. She looked quickly and pulled the covers back over Miranda's feet. “Looks like you might be awhile yet. It's good to see you have the bed padded and yer gown out of the way.”

  “I tried to think of things like that,” Miranda said.

  Sarie Lee grinned. “That's a time. I reckon you best keep all that in mind so you know what to do to hep me when my time comes.”

  Miranda's face relaxed for a moment when she thought about helping Sarie Lee. Another pain coursed over her, and she yelled again.

  “I'm goin' to go see if Anselm has something to eat and how that water is coming,” Sarie Lee said.

  “There is elk stew in the fireplace and fresh bread in the bread box. You eat while you're at it. I'll yell for you if I need help,” Miranda moaned, rubbing her belly.

  When Sarie Lee and Anselm went to check on Miranda, she'd fallen asleep. Sarie Lee put her finger to her lips and tipped toed away from the door. “Let her sleep. Anselm, you have work to do tomorrow. Y'all might ought to make a pallet in the other bedroom or by the fireplace so you can sleep. I'll let you know if I need ya.”

  “What about you?” Anselm asked.

  “I'll make me a pallet on the floor by yer wife. That way if I doze off I'll hear her when she needs me,” Sarie Lee assured him.

  The house was peaceful until almost midnight. Miranda screamed. Sarie Lee bolted up from the pallet. Instantly, Anselm was at the door.

  Sarie Lee patted Miranda's hand. “How you comin'?

  “I think I'm about to have the baby,” she replied through clinched teeth.

  Anselm gripped the door facing. “Any ding I can do?”

  “Check on that hot water. We might have to add to it,” Sarie Lee said. “and you wait in the kitchen.” She closed the door on Anselm. “Now I'm goin' to pull the covers back out of the way.

  Miranda let out another scream and tried to double up. Working quickly, Sarie Lee flattened Miranda's shoulders to the bed and raised her knees. “Hang in there just like that. Ya don't have long to wait now. Ya feel like pushing?” Sarie Lee asked, placing a damp rag on Miranda's forehead.

  “Un huh,” Miranda groaned.

  Sarie Lee spread Miranda's knees apart. “Then push. It's time to get this over with.” She grabbed Miranda's feet, pinning them to the bed.

  Miranda pushed when she felt the urge and cried out. A sensation of warmth oozed between her legs. The pain eased and stopped all together.

  Miranda said urgently, “I don't hear crying. Did I have the baby yet?”

  Sarie Lee didn't answer. Her face wore an indescribably sad expression. Tears wet her face as she clutched Miranda's hand.

  “Oh, no! The baby is dead.” Miranda put her arm over her eyes. “I've known something was wrong for a long time. Remember! I said there wasn't any mo
vement.”

  Sarie Lee had trouble controlling her emotion so she could speak. She sat gently on the edge of the bed and rubbed Miranda's arm.

  Miranda put her arm down. “I'd at least like to see what the baby looks like and hold it. Is it a boy or girl?”

  Sarie Lee shook her head no. “I've heard of such things, but I've never knew anyone it happened to.”

  Miranda was confused. “What are you talking about? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

  “Neither one,” Sarie Lee struggled to say.

  “Maybe you better just tell me. What did I have?” Miranda cried.

  “You had what they call a false pregnancy. You spent nine months waitin', went into labor and out came the after birth. There ain't a baby. No one knows why this happens. I'm so sorry, Miranda, to have to tell you this,” Sarie Lee explained.

  “I went through nine months of discomfort and hell getting here across this god forsaken country, and I don't have a baby.” Miranda tried to digest the information.

  “After I clean you up, I'll go tell Anselm. He'll want to be with you,” Sarie Lee said.

  Miranda's eyes stung as tears washed her cheeks. Her throat thickened until she thought she wasn't going to be able to get a breath of air. “Just leave me alone for a little while. I've got to get a grip on myself.”

  When Anselm and Sarie Lee checked on Miranda, she appeared to be asleep.

  Miranda moped around the house the rest of the winter. She rocked and brooded with very little to say to Anselm. He made one attempt to get her to talk about how she felt. She told him she didn't feel like discussing the subject with him.

  Anselm knew he had to find a way to help Miranda. She was losing weight from not eating. Her complexion was pasty. He was afraid he'd lose her soon if she didn't snap out of the depression. It was consuming her. So he traveled over to the Mast farm to ask Sarie Lee for help.