Dragon of the Prairie

by Sarah J. Stone

  “I don’t need a doctor, Angus,” she began to say, but her words trailed off and everything went black. She was dimly aware of Angus bolting up from his chair and catching her before she hit the ground, then nothing.

  Time seemed to pass in small bursts after she regained consciousness. Periods of wakefulness were accompanied by long spells during which she could hardly hold her eyes open. There were some memories of being fed soup or of having water brought to her mouth, but everything was mostly a haze, except for bits and pieces of Angus being present in the room with her. She would open her eyes to find him watching her and then she would drift away again.

  “Stay with me Margaret,” she could hear him saying during one of her foggy days. He was holding a cool cloth on her head as he spoke. She could only assume her fever was great. She felt frightened and grateful that he was there with her. Her voice cracked when she tried to tell him so and he put a finger to it.

  “Save your strength. You’re going to be fine. I’m going to make sure you get through this,” he said. Then, unexpectedly, “I love you, Margaret.”

  She thought that perhaps she had imagined it in her delirium, but as the days passed, he said it more and more to her. He seemed to always be there, taking care of her. She slowly began to come out from behind the fog that seemed to surround her and be able to focus more on the room around her. Looking over one morning, she was surprised to find Dog curled up on the foot of the bed, keeping her company as she slept. Angus was not there.

  “Dog,” she managed to creak out. The animal’s ears popped up and his tail wagged slowly as he crept a bit closer to her. She stretched out a hand to scratch his ears.

  “I see what goes on in here when I’m gone. I don’t think you are sick at all. Just letting me wait on you hand and foot while you and that dog play while I’m away,” Angus said as he entered the room.

  She knew he was joking, though his voice sounded much more serious. He set the bowl of soup he carried down by the bed and poured her a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. Putting his arm around her, he pulled her up a bit in the bed and held the glass to her lips, letting her drink what she could of it.

  “You have caught us,” she managed to say in a weak voice.

  Angus studied her, brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and smiled down at her. He retrieved the bowl of soup and began feeding it to her in small bites as if she were a child. She knew that the worst had passed. Whatever had taken her was beginning to clear up and she would be fine. Angus had seen to that. She could tell from the way he gazed at her that something had changed between them. When he finally put the bowl aside and began to stand up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, she reached for his arm, causing him to hesitate.

  “I love you too, Angus,” she said quietly.

  Angus smiled down at her again and caressed her cheek with one of his large, calloused hands. She could see a light come on in his eyes that she had never noticed before and it seemed like it was a good thing to her. He sat there just looking at her for a long while before finally standing up and retrieving the bowl to take downstairs.

  “I know,” he told her as he left the room.

  Several more days passed during which Margaret lacked the strength to get out of bed. Angus continued to take care of her until she was well enough to make it on her own. When she finally managed to sit up, he carried her downstairs to sit by the fire with him. Rather than sitting in separate chairs as they usually did, he sat on the large sofa with her head resting against him. He read to her from the bible and sometimes, from a new author named Twain that everyone was talking about. When she grew tired, he carried her back upstairs to the bed, tucking her in with a soft kiss on the cheek.

  “Angus?” she said one night as he prepared to leave.

  “Yes?” he said, turning back.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  Angus looked uncertain for a moment as he studied her face, but after what seemed like an eternity, he turned back and returned to the bed. He stripped down to his thermal underwear and climbed into the bed beside her. Margaret smiled at him as they lay there in the dimly lit room, with only the light of the moon shining in. Finally, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  The morning light brought about a renewed strength in her, as she climbed out of bed on her own and began making her way downstairs. Angus had apparently already awoken and gone down. She found him in the kitchen preparing their breakfast.

  “Margaret, what are you doing? You shouldn’t have come downstairs alone,” he replied with a scowl.

  “I am not going to get better lying in that bed, Angus. I have to get up and move around a bit,” she told him.

  “Fine, but don’t overdo it. Sit and I’ll fix you a plate,” he told her.

  Margaret did as instructed and he sat a plate full of eggs and sausage down in front of her, along with a crust of bread. She looked around the kitchen and noticed a variety of food that had accumulated there while she was sick. There were all sorts of jarred food and breads, as well as a cake and some jerky.

  “You have been busy, Angus,” she said.

  “What?” he replied, bringing his own food to the table and sitting it down before pouring them each a glass of milk from a glass bottle on the table.

  “All this food. I had no idea you knew how to make so many things,” she replied.

  “I don’t. These are all gifts from the people at church. All those people you helped get well were mighty eager to return the favor. I’ve had people stopping by ever since they found out you were so sick. If I didn’t make it to the door, they left it on the porch.” He laughed.

  “That is so kind of them,” she remarked.

  “Kindness begets kindness, my love,” he replied.

  Margaret smiled back at him and began to slowly eating her breakfast. She stayed up for as long as she could manage and then returned to the bed, with Angus walking close behind her up the stairs to make sure she didn’t fall. She drifted into a heavy sleep, even the brief excursion downstairs taking a lot of her strength. When she awoke, Angus was there with a sandwich and milk, helping her sit up in bed to eat.

  “Angus, am I going to get better?” she asked. “I won’t always be like this, will I?”

  “Of course, you are going to get better. The doctor said you had pneumonia from taking care of everyone but yourself,” he told her. “You are just going to have to let it run its course until you get your strength back.”

  “You have been so good to me, Angus,” she told him.

  “I am only giving you back a fraction of what you have given me since the day you stepped off that wagon and came to this rundown farm to be with a man you hardly even knew. You seemed to have faith in me from the very beginning,” he told her.

  “Of course, I did. You are a wonderful man, Angus. I am very lucky to have found you. I love you so much,” she told him.

  “I love you, too, Margaret,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her.

  This time, it was no mere peck on the cheek. He kissed her the way a man who loves a woman should kiss her and Margaret felt it all the way down to her toes, finally pulling away to look at her with a soft smile.

  “Eat your sandwich and get some rest. The last thing I want is to lose you now that I have you by my side.”

  “You’ll never lose me,” she told him, smiling up at him as he patted her on the leg and got up to leave the room.

  Later that night, Angus returned with soup for supper and sat in the bed with her, reading to her as she ate. Afterwards, he cleared her bowl away and returned to climb into bed with her. This time, he pulled her to him, holding her close as they fell asleep in one another’s arms. Somewhere in the night, they found one another, making love so tenderly that it felt as if she might melt into him. Margaret woke up feeling like the world was brighter somehow. There was nothing that the two of them couldn’t conquer together.

  The winter began to thaw as it gave way to spring. Mar
garet and Angus were eager to rebuild from the tornado that had damaged the farm the previous year. Though they had done some patch work then, there was still much to be done to get the farm into shape. They would need to get as much of it done as possible before time to plant crops.

  “Angus, I’m going to go into town to pick up some things from the mercantile. Do you want to come with me?” Margaret asked him as they sat eating breakfast one morning.

  “Yeah, we need quite a few things. I’ll get the wagon ready while you finish up in here and we will go first thing so we can get back and settle into chores,” Angus told her.

  “Sounds perfect,” Margaret replied, always glad when he came with her. There were some rough men in town sometimes and she was still very wary of strangers, even though it seemed that any pursuit of her had been given up. Plus, she still wasn’t used to driving the wagon and preferred having Angus along to steer.

  “Come on, Dog,” Angus called out.

  Dog ran and jumped up in the back of the wagon and lay down. He enjoyed the outings to town. Though he never left the wagon, he would bark and wag his tail at people as they went by. Some, mostly children, would stop and pet him when the wagon was sitting outside the mercantile to be loaded.

  The first thing Margaret noticed when they came out of the mercantile later was a man in a black suit with a hat pulled low over his eyes. He was leaning on a lamp post and watching Angus as he loaded supplies onto the wagon. After a while, he walked toward where she was adding some items of her own and Dog suddenly jumped up and growled.

  “Dog! What’s gotten into you? Settle down, boy,” Angus called out to him, but Dog would not be cowed.

  He continued with a low growl as the man approached and then he jumped from the wagon, standing behind Margaret’s skirt as if to guard her. Angus and Margaret both looked at him curiously as he began barking at the man. Margaret turned just as the stranger grew near and caught the long scar on his cheek. The man from the train station! Dog must have sensed something about him. She turned quickly away and made her way around to the other side of the wagon. Dog stayed right behind her until she sat down. He jumped into the back again, but continued to snarl at the man as he moved down the street away from them.

  Margaret’s heart beat rapidly. What was she going to do? The man had found her. He must have seen her and now he would find out where she lived. Not only would she be in danger, but so would Angus. She lost sight of him as they pulled away and headed home, but he would come for her in a less public place. She knew that.

  Her nerves were completely on edge the rest of the day. Seeing the man had rattled her. Every sound caused her to jump as she waited for the inevitable. It would be dark soon and that would make it easier for him to come and go unseen. He might just check out the place to see how it was best to make his move. Then again, he might have already done so and now be ready to come in and take care of her once and for all.

  “Margaret, what is wrong with you?” Angus asked over supper.

  “Wrong? Nothing,” Margaret replied, unable to look him in the eye.

  “It is most certainly something,” Angus replied.

  “I said it was not,” Margaret replied, picking up her plate of half-eaten food and taking it to the wash pan.

  She put the scraps in Dog’s bowl and began cleaning it off. As she stood looking out the window and drying her plate, she heard Angus’s chair screech across the wooden floor. Her head jerked toward the back door in time to see it slam shut as he stomped outside. He was angry that she was keeping something from him, but how could she possibly tell him? Then again, what would happen if she didn’t? She cleaned the rest of the dishes and began getting ready for bed.

  Lying there in the darkness, she felt the most frightened she had ever been in her life. Angus had not spoken a word to her since dinner and she knew that was her fault. Why couldn’t she just tell him what was wrong? If the man came for her, then she would have no choice anyway. A dark thought crossed her mind. There would be no explaining from the grave. She tossed and turned all night, thankful when the morning light streamed into the bedroom windows without incident.

  Breakfast was heavy with silence. Angus ate his food quickly and went straight out to start on chores without a word. Margaret busied herself, as well. Her head shot up from the small garden of spices she had been preparing for planting when she heard Dog begin growling and barking at something. Looking around, Margaret could see nothing. Maybe she was just being paranoid and it was some sort of wild animal that had caught his attention.

  “I’ll just make myself a sandwich for lunch,” Angus scowled a while later as he went into the house.

  “I’m sorry, Angus. I didn’t realize the time,” Margaret replied, beginning to get up from the dirt to make him some lunch.

  “Don’t bother with it,” he replied.

  Margaret sighed and returned to the gardening. There was no use arguing with him when he was like this. Besides, it was her fault for putting this wedge between them. She didn’t bother stopping for lunch, instead pulling weeds and breaking ground with a small garden shovel until it was time to start supper.

  She was setting out hot food on the table when Angus returned from the fields. He sat across from where she was placing a hot potato casserole and looked at her with a saddened face. She could tell he was distraught, but said nothing. As soon as she sat down to join him, he became angry and shouted at her.

  “I’m tired of this, Margaret. Tell me what I’ve done this moment,” he said.

  “You’ve done nothing,” Margaret replied. It would have never occurred to her that he might blame himself for the way she was acting.

  “I must have done something for you to become so distant without warning. Ever since we went to the mercantile, you’ve seemed at odds with me, and I don’t know why,” he told her.

  Margaret let out a loud sigh and looked at him. She loved this man, but she had to tell him the truth. He was in just as much danger as she was with a man like the one after her closing in. This was it. She would have to tell him.

  “Angus, I didn’t tell you everything about myself in our letters,” she said.

  Angus’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me now,” he demanded.

  “I told you in my letters that I was a seamstress from London and that I had come to New York after my father died in hopes of finding a husband in the new world. That was mostly true. I am from London, but I only became a seamstress once I arrived in New York and needed to pay my way,” she said.

  “Okay. Is that all?” he said, seeming momentarily relieved that it was no worse than a white lie.

  “No, that isn’t,” she replied, watching his shoulders stiffen in preparation for what would come next.

  “My father was very wealthy. My mother died when I was a small girl and he never remarried. I was his only child. Then he fell ill unexpectedly and couldn’t handle his business. I trusted his long time accountant to take charge while my father mended so that I could care for him rather than be tied up with his business dealings. Father seemed to be doing much better and then, he just suddenly got worse again. The following morning, he was dead,” she told him.

  “Go on,” Angus said, obviously aware that wasn’t the end of the story.

  “I suspect that his accountant killed him. The night my father grew so ill, he had visited him. My father had seemed to be on the mend, but after he had come, he got much worse and passed on. Then, after my father’s death, I found certain problems in the accounting. When I raised the issues, I was told that I would do better to mind my own business. Then, there were men following me and I was frightened that the same harm that had come to my father would come to me,” she said.

  “Did you alert the authorities?” Angus asked.

  “I tried, but they wouldn’t listen. They treated me as if I was just some grief-stricken, paranoid woman,” she said.

  “So, you ran?” he asked.

  “I did. I went to the bank one day to discover
that the accountant had somehow removed me from all accounts. I didn’t have a single dime to my name and when I went to my childhood home, I was informed that I was no longer allowed to stay there,” she said.

  “What? How could he do that? How could he get away with it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Money is a powerful weapon. He used my father’s money to pay anyone he needed to pay to shut me out,” she said.

  “How did you end up in New York?” he asked.

  “I still had some friends. Close family friends who believed me and knew what was happening, but could do nothing to stop it. One of them bought me passage on a steamer bound for New York and gave me some money. Also, one of the servants at my home snuck out some of my clothes and jewelry. I packed what clothes they managed to save for me and sold most of the jewelry to get a small room in an older woman’s home once I arrived in the city,” she said.

  “So, you became a seamstress and began writing letters to me,” he said.

  “Not at first. I was in New York for a while, working as a seamstress and other odd jobs to pay my room and board. My friend back in London contacted me to tell me that the accountant was sending men to find me, to kill me,” she told him.

  “You began writing me because you needed to get out of New York and become lost somewhere. It wasn’t about finding a husband. It was about finding safe haven,” he replied. She could hear the anger and hurt in his voice.

  “Yes. That is true. At least, in the beginning, but not once I got here. I fell in love with you and forgot all about everything else,” she said.

  “Then why the sudden distance?” he asked.

  “There was a man that followed me from New York. I lost him at the train station before I came here and haven’t seen any sign of him since. That is, until we went to the mercantile. The man that Dog kept growling at, I got a good look at his face. He has a very distinct scar. I remembered it from the station. It was him and he was looking right at me,” she said.

  “Are you sure he didn’t just happen to be in the same place?” Angus asked.