Chapter 5
Iris eyes widened and she stepped back until her spine pressed against the row of drawers that lined the front interior of the wagon.
Fergus’ mind still reeled with the story of Iris' parentage, but he was serious about helping her.
"Why do you have a ring?" Iris whispered, almost looking as scared as when she thought Morris was going to find her in the wagon.
"I bought a ring at the general store when I bought supplies. If you were traveling with me, it would be best to be married. It’s also an insurance since Morris wouldn’t be looking for a married woman."
"You want to marry me?"
Whoa, whoa, she's not thinking along the same line as me.
"Uh, no... You could wear the ring to pretend we're married, so you could safely travel with me."
"Would you expect marital rights if I wore your ring?"
All of a sudden, it was too warm inside the wagon. Fergus stepped back until his shoulders thumped the back wall. Even though they were on opposite ends of the wagon, they were still only about five feet apart.
"No. Absolutely not. Never even thought of that!"
Golly. He bet his face was so red and flushed; he could boil the stew on his forehead tonight instead of lighting the stove.
Fergus took a deep breath. "When I officially ask a woman to be my wife, I'll say the whole wedding vow to her, 'for richer, poorer, sickness and health', etcetera, besides promising my love and heart to her."
He held up the ring he still had between his thumb and index finger. "If I put this ring on your finger, it would be my promise to keep you safe and to honor your wishes. It wouldn't be a pledge in front of a minister, only my solemn vow to protect you."
Iris rubbed her left temple now as she did last night. Her thoughts had to be so jumbled. To go through who knows what with Morris, then trying to take her life to end her misery. And then a stranger gives her a ring and promises to protect her?
"I just stopped the wagon to talk to you for a moment. We'll travel further to find a homesteader's place or a camp site along a creek for the night."
What should he do with the ring since she wasn't reaching for it or the idea to pretend they were married?
"Please put the ring in your reticule. Even if you decide not to wear it, it's yours. Consider it money in gold if you have to buy or bargain for something."
"Fergus, I don't know what to say."
"I was raised to be a Good Samaritan, Iris. My only motive is to keep you safe, not to take advantage of you in any way.
"Well except to help me with my photography," Fergus sheepishly added, while raising his shoulders to admit he could use the help.
"Please take this ring, Iris. I bought it for you." He held the ring out and she finally opened her palm up to take it.
"It's very pretty, Fergus. I've never owned any jewelry." The gold band barely caught the light it was so thin. Now he wished he had bought a fancier band for her finger. He was thinking cheap, not how it would represent his supposed love to people they were trying to fool.
"I'm sorry I'm hesitating, Fergus. You've been nothing but kind to me. It's just that I've never met a man I could trust."
Never? And she was in her mid-twenties? "Haven't you had anyone court you, or ask for your hand in marriage? Surely those would have been men you could trust."
She sniffed, but plump tears still swelled in the corners of her eyes.
“No. Around home, I was too white to marry a Negro. And I have tainted blood, so no white man would consider me for his wife, only his mistress.”
She looked so pained, beaten down, and to the breaking point, again.
Fergus held out his hands, trying to soothe her and give her something else to cling to than her panicking misery.
"I swear you are safe with me, Iris, and I promise to protect you if you want to travel with me to Kansas.”
The wagon moved a bit, reminding Fergus the horse was still hitched to the wagon. He watched Iris fight her mental demons, and wondered what he had gotten himself into. But he would have saved and protected her if he had to do it over.
“All right. I’ll accept your ride to Kansas.”
"Do you want to ride with me up front, or stay here in the back of the wagon?"
Maybe the fresh air and country scenery would give her a sense of safety if she sat outside on the driver's bench.
“I need to step outside for a minute, but then I’d prefer to be out of sight.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure the swaying of the wagon will lull you to sleep. Your body needs more rest.”
Fergus reached behind him to open the door and descended the steps to get out of Iris’ way. He wished he could give her the comfort of a hug, but she’d panic if he wrapped his arms around her.
***
Iris was instantly alert as she heard voices outside. She strained to hear their words, but the voices were friendly, almost excited.
"Missy, open the door. We've graciously been asked to stay with a family tonight." The muffled words against the doorframe reassured her it was all right to open the door.
Iris hadn’t slept while they traveled; instead, she stared at the ring Fergus had given her and thought about her predicament. She thought jumping off the train would settle her problem, but it didn’t.
But she’d accepted Fergus’ offer of a safe passage to Kansas. So far, he’d proven to be an honorable man and she felt safe with him.
With shaky hands, she slid the band on her left ring finger, and then rubbed it with her thumb. It was a little big, but not so much it would fall off her finger if she dropped her hand.
She took her cloak off the hook where it had been hanging and slung it over her shoulders. With only a moment’s hesitation, Iris unlocked and opened the door.
Iris searched for Fergus' face first but she was immediately drawn to the smiling faces of a family, a man and woman in their late thirties, and five blonde boys stair stepping down in size who matched their father's features.
Was the crude earth structure behind them their home?
The slaves' quarters on the plantation were in better shape than this family's house.
"Missy," Iris noticed Fergus had his hand stretched out to help her down the steps to meet the family. She hesitated a moment for the first touch of Fergus' hand, or anyway the first one she'd remembered.
The warm grasp gave her strength to face the family.
"Missy, this is Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Piper and their boys. This is my wife, Mrs. Missy Reagan."
The woman stepped forward, excitement in her face. "It's so good to have a woman to visit with, even if it's only for an evening."
Iris cringed as the woman grasped her hand and squeezed it. She wasn't used to people being friendly towards her.
"My wife, uh, Missy, has been a little under the weather. The evening before last her cloak tripped her as she stepped over the wagon tongue and she hit her temple on the wagon wheel. Knocked her out cold, so she's been sleeping a lot while she recovers."
Iris stared up at Fergus, amazed how easily he’d explained her bruised temple.
Wait. Why did he call her Missy? Oh, so no one knew her real name. They hadn't discussed it, but it was better he didn't call her Iris when they were around anyone.
He must have rehearsed his story about the bruise on the side of her head too.
"Oh you poor dear! Let's go inside and I'll brew you a cup of chamomile tea. You've bound to have a headache, seeing the size of the bruise on your temple."
The woman wrapped an arm around Iris’ middle, guiding her to the house as if she was an invalid.
"Toby, open the door for us, then go help your brothers with chores."
The young boy did as he was told and scampered off to the barn.
Iris stood still a second inside the sod house to let her eyes adjust to the dim light coming from one glass-paned window and an oil lamp on the table. The outside walls were layers of sod and dirt laid like bricks to
form the walls, but the interior of the one-room home had been plastered smooth and whitewashed, as if trying to add more light and the feeling of space in the room. Which would be hard since the table and chairs took up most of the room's space. There was only a path between the chairs and the row of trunks along the walls, which probably held all their possessions. A cook stove, taking up a large space, was situated against the left wall and a crude stand of shelves perpendicular held the women's cooking supplies.
Tattered sheets hung in the middle of room, giving two beds a hint of privacy behind them. Seven people lived in this cramped space.
Iris’ brightly lit bedroom in the upstairs servant’s quarters in the plantation house was a palatial suite compared to this rough room.
“Let me take your cloak and you make yourself at home.” Mrs. Piper patiently waited for Iris to slide the cloak off her shoulders and hand it to the woman. She slipped through the sheets, laying the cloak on one of the beds.
“Please sit down while I unpack my teapot. It’s been ages since I’ve had the chance to use it.”
Iris watched as Mrs. Piper opened one trunk, then another before she reached in to pull out a cloth wrapped parcel.
“You don’t need to go to such trouble—”
“Believe me, it’s a treat to use my good china tea pot and cups, even if it’s only for an afternoon tea. Tinware is the best with five young boys, so my breakable dishes are stored away for now. Someday when we have a real house and parlor again—and neighbors to visit with—I will use my china again.”
Mrs. Piper poured a little hot water from the teapot on the stove into the ceramic teapot and swirled around the water to warm the container.
“I assume you like chamomile tea?” Mrs. Piper asked as she reached for a small tin on the shelf behind the stove.
“Oh, yes, anything hot would be welcomed.”
Mrs. Piper filled a metal tea ball with loose tea leaves, set the ball in the pot, and added hot water to fill the china pot. Then she set a blue patterned china cup and saucer in front of Iris, and another set across the table where she was going sit.
Next, she set out a plate of biscuits, a small crock of butter and a glass jar of an orange-colored jam.
“Please tell me about your travels. Your husband said you’re from Kansas, but up here in Nebraska taking homestead portraits while your studio is being built.” Mrs. Piper glanced between Iris and the teacups she was pouring the steaming hot tea into.
What should Iris say? This was the first homestead she’d been to with Fergus so she didn’t have a clue how many places he’d stopped at while touring the area.
“Uh, we’ve wandered around this area, but I couldn’t tell you how many places we’ve stopped. The days have kind of blurred together.”
“When will you be heading home?”
At least she could answer that question. “Fergus’ brother is marrying the middle of this month, so we plan to be home by the twelfth of November.” Home? The word pinged her heart. It hurt to think of the home she left behind. But why, when she had planned her demise so she never had to go home again?
Iris wanted the conversation moved away from her. “And where was home for you before homesteading in Nebraska?”
“A little village near Columbus, Ohio. We decided to start over someplace new,” Mrs. Piper shrugged her shoulders but looked uncomfortable talking about it.
“Wasn’t it hard to leave everything behind?” Iris imagined the family had a wooden or brick home, friends and family nearby…
“Yes, but it was a new start for us.” Mrs. Piper looked down at her hands clamped around the teacup. “Ronald was accused of something he didn’t do. Even after he was cleared in the trial…we couldn’t stay there.”
“I’m so sorry,” Iris gave her sympathy because she knew how life could be unfair.
“Well, I’m making the best of it. My husband and the boys love it out here and we’ll survive.” Mrs. Piper took a deep breath, straightened her shoulder, and smiled.
“Now, if you feel up to it, please tell me anything and everything you’ve heard while traveling around. I’m dying for news.”
*
"Will they survive the winter?" Iris’ breath clouded the cold air when she asked Fergus the question that had been on her mind since they left the Piper's homestead this morning.
She couldn't imagine living in a hole in the ground after Fergus described the winter blizzards they could expect at any time.
"Dugouts are the warmest place to live in the winter, so they'll be okay, as long as they have food, water and don't wander out in the blinding storm."
Their evening was spent with the family, in the cramped quarters of the dugout. Mrs. Piper served rabbit stew, biscuits with Sandhill plum jelly, and a pie made from dried apples. It was different food than she grew up with, but it was good.
Iris retired to the wagon long before Fergus did, and he was out of the wagon when she woke this morning. He’d been sleeping on the floor beneath the sleeping bunk, using their outer garments as his pillow and blanket.
Mrs. Piper insisted they eat breakfast with the family, and Iris ate the biscuits and milk gravy out of courtesy, even though she didn't have much of an appetite.
After the meal, the men carried two chairs outside of the dugout for the family portrait. Other than Mrs. Piper putting on her good dress, no one else changed clothes. The parents sat on the chairs while their children stood around them. Their dog wandered into the picture just as Fergus squeezed the shutter. Hopefully the dog wouldn't show up as a smear of gray in the portrait.
Iris carefully recorded the details in Fergus’ record book needed to identify the photo. She’d even drawn a quick sketch of the smallest boy’s face. He had the dimple in his left cheek and a stubborn front cowlick in his hair.
"Mrs. Piper enjoyed your visit. The first thing she asked this morning was if we couldn't stay another day."
“I can’t imagine how lonely she must be. You wonder how often they go to town since they are hours away from it.”
“Only when necessary, I imagine. And I bet Mr. Piper goes by himself and she stays home with the boys most of the time.”
Iris scanned the gray sky as they traveled. This was the first time she’d ridden on the wagon seat with Fergus instead of in the back. Dapper kept up a brisk pace since it was cold this morning.
“What’s today? How many days will it take us to travel to your hometown? Will we see more people along the way?”
“It’s Friday, November fifth. We’ll stop as often as we can to get the business but we need to arrive home by the twelfth.”
So, a week to pretend she was married to Fergus, and to decide what she should do next with her life. Iris no longer felt the need to permanently escape from the world, thanks to Fergus’ care and catching up on her sleep.
Chapter 6
Fergus knocked on the hand-hewn wooden door, but no one answered the knock or his "hello the house" shout when they drove into the homestead yard.
"Maybe they aren't home?" Iris asked as she looked around the sparse homestead. There wasn’t any smoke coming from the chimney on the roof.
The sod-block walls of the small barn looked as if they were built this summer. The dugout, built into a natural swell of land, had a sod wall for its fourth side where the door was. Its roof was a thick layer of golden grass left from the past growing season, so their home may have been here a few years already.
"Two horses are in the corral and the wagon is parked beside it, so I think they’re home."
Iris wrapped her cloak tighter around her body as she moved behind Fergus. The morning was pretty with sun burning the frost off the dead prairie grass, but it was still cold. He should have suggested Iris stayed in the wagon until they knew the homesteader was home.
Both turned to the door as a tortured wail came from inside the house. It sounded like a man's voice.
Fergus tried to peer into the tiny window beside the door but a makesh
ift curtain blocked his view of the interior.
"Hello? Anyone need help?"
"No... No! Don't leave me, Anna!" The man’s voice raised to a fevered pitch.
Fergus closed his eyes and said a quick prayer, guessing what was happening inside this humble home.
"Should we go?" Iris asked, looking uncomfortable since they could hear young children crying besides an adult now.
"No. We'll wait until someone comes to the door. Go back into the wagon to get out of this cold wind." Fergus settled against the sod wall, knowing it could be a while before the family inside acknowledged them. He pulled his coat collar up to keep the wind from blowing on his neck.
"Maybe they want to be left alone?" Iris countered again.
"Maybe, but I need to stay and talk with them first to be sure."
Iris nodded before climbing the back steps of the wagon and going inside it, leaving Fergus to wonder what was going on inside the little dugout.
Fergus' chest tightened with the dreaded fear the family was about to lose a family member, if it hadn't happened already. If the worst had happened to the family, as he feared, they would be in shock and could use a hand to help with the burial and service.
He and his brothers started digging graves in the Clear Creek cemetery as soon as they could handle the task, unless the ground was frozen. When they were still young boys, if they couldn't dig through the winter ground, the blacksmith came out with his pick ax and broke through the frozen top soil for them. After a few years, the four older Reagan boys worked as a team to dig the six-foot hole they needed for a casket. Between Angus' precise details of width, depth, and square corners and Mack's brute strength, they always had the grave dug in time for the service, no matter the time or season.
Mack was still in charge of the cemetery at home, building simple caskets if needed, besides digging the graves.
If need be, Fergus could conduct a grave side service since he'd heard it repeated so many times by his father. The homestead was isolated, a long ways from a town, so Fergus bet any deceased would be buried on the property.
Fergus' Honor (Grooms With Honor Book 2) Page 5
