“Yes, my friend and you should change your expression as your disapproval crosses the language barrier. These men provided shelter for those who were missing or ill. You should not judge them badly,” Walking Tall said quietly.
Shame caused Almanzo’s stomach to roil. He had just judged an entire tribe harshly based on his own racist views. Despite telling himself he had left behind the beliefs his father had instilled in him all those years ago, he had immediately believed the women were being held captive.
“I am very sorry. I should have used my head,” Almanzo apologized.
Walking Tall nodded slowly, the pain in his eyes causing, even more, shame to course through Almanzo’s body. In acting without thinking he had caused his best friend pain. He felt lower than the underbelly of a rattlesnake.
“Can you ask the Chief if I could meet these women please?” Almanzo asked.
Walking Tall scrutinized him for a couple of seconds before rattling off something to the Chief. The old man smiled, before gesturing for one of his braves to show Almanzo around.
“You wish to meet with other white women?”
“Yes please, thank you. Thank you Chief,” Almanzo remembered his manners. He put his hand on Walking Tall’s shoulder and squeezed by way of an apology before he followed the brave toward the back of the village.
“Wait. Can we come with you?” the dark-haired girl said.
Almanzo looked to Walking Tall who again rattled off something to the Chief. Then Walking Tall took out his knife and seconds later, the girl’s hands were free. Almanzo glared at her until she said thank you.
“Please keep quiet. Do not cause more trouble,” Almanzo said under his breath. Then he held out his hand to the redheaded girl. “Fiona, I will not hurt you. Take my hand and I will help you.” He spoke so gently, the tone the same as he used with a nervous colt. The girl stared him in the eyes and then moved to take his hand. Her grip was stronger than he expected. He held her hand as he moved after the brave leaving Fire Daughter to follow. He hadn’t asked her name.
As they walked toward a group of women, he noticed the older woman from earlier move quickly in the direction of shelter, well as quickly as someone could with such a bad limp. Something made him call out.
“Wait, please. Don’t leave.”
The woman stopped moving but didn’t turn around. She had understood English. He turned to Fiona and asked her to wait where she was. “Look after Fire Daughter and keep her out of trouble.” Fiona gave him a half smile as he pointed at her fiery friend.
Then Almanzo moved slowly toward the woman.
“Please don’t be afraid. We come in peace,” he said quietly, his heart beating so loud he was sure she could hear it.
Still, the woman didn’t turn around. He moved closer.
“You understand me. Are you one of the white women the Chief mentioned?”
She shook her head violently but he was close enough to see her skin, while tanned, was not the nut berry brown of the people around her. Her hair, although braided, was fair despite having been made to look darker. Who was she and what was she so afraid of?
“Please speak to me. I will not make you come with us. If you wish to stay here you can,” he said softly.
She turned, a solitary tear rolling down her face. Her eyes were glued to the ground but it didn’t matter. His head slowly understood what his heart was trying to tell him.
“Ma? It is you, isn’t it?”
Chapter 7
Hughes Homestead.
Carrie raced through the kitchen.
“Who’s chasing you girl?” Bridget called.
“No-one but I’m late for dinner. Again.” Carrie called back but kept moving. She’d forgotten the time and she hated being late for anything. Especially now with an atmosphere in the house. She didn’t know what was wrong with Rick, but it was like walking on eggshells around the adults. They were usually patient and kind but Jo had become rather snappy the last few days. She didn’t want to get on the wrong side of her ma.
Pushing open the door, she found her sister Sarah lying in bed. “What happened to you? Your cheeks are all red and your eyes are puffy. Did you have a row with Edwin?” Carrie asked with concern.
“Mind your own business.”
“No need to bite my head off,” Carrie retorted, stripping off her pants and putting on a dress. “You better hurry up. Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes. You know we can’t be late.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Sarah always had a good appetite. Worried it was something serious, Carrie sat down beside Sarah. “What’s wrong Sassy?”
“Quit calling me that. I hate it.”
“I thought you liked it. Paco was right when he started calling you that. You do talk back to the adults a lot,” Carrie’s impatience overrode her concern.
“I am an adult now,” Sarah said pushing her sister’s hand away. “ For goodness sake, why does everyone insist on treating me like a child?”
“Maybe ‘cause you act like one. Nancy acts older than you do at times,” Carrie said firmly.
Sarah sat up on the bed, wiping the tears away with her hands. “Nancy acts older than everyone. Paco calls her the old soul for a reason,” Sarah confirmed.
Carrie smiled thinking of their little sister. Well, their cousin if she wanted to be correct. Rick was her mother’s brother but she couldn’t remember her real pa. Her ma’s memory had faded over the years. Rick and Jo were the only real parents she ever had. She loved them and considered their twins Nancy and Lena, her younger siblings.
“Are you worried about Al?” Carrie asked.
“No. Why?”
Carrie looked open mouthed at her sister. She knew Sarah had a selfish streak but even she must be worried about the missing girls and their adoptive brother out looking for them. “He’s been gone ages. I know Ma and Pa are worried about him and the girls.”
“They are better off dead.”
Carrie’s head snapped up. “What did you say? How could you?”
“Grow up Carrie. Who is going to want two girls who have been living with Indians for almost a week? If they aren’t dead, I bet they wish they were.” A stinging slap rang out. Sarah screamed in pain. “What did you do that for, you little brat?”
“How could you say something like that. You don’t know anything about the Indians. They could be like Paco and the rest of our friends. Remember how the tribe helped to save Becky from the kidnappers and helped us to settle in Oregon.”
Sarah reddened a little at Carrie’s emphasis on our. She turned away not wanting to acknowledge her sister was right. “Edwin says it is not decent. What if they come back with an Indian in their belly?” Sarah said, her cruel words shocking Carrie to the core.
“I hate Edwin Morgan and you should too. He is a despicable excuse for a man. I am going to tell Pa and Ma what he’s been saying. That will be the end of you walking out with him.”
Sarah paled before dropping to her bed. “Please Carrie, don’t say a word. I’m sorry. I am just really worried about Pa and Almanzo and the others. Of course I hope the girls come back safe and sound.”
Carrie eyed her sister. She couldn’t say anything to Rick and Jo, not for her sister’s sake but for Rick’s. He had enough to worry about.
Carrie concentrated on putting on her stockings. Why couldn’t her sister have fallen in love with Almanzo. He was so much nicer than Edwin Morgan. Now was not the time to tell Sarah she thought Almanzo was in love with her. He had been for years but nobody seemed to see it. Sarah had never mentioned anything. Carrie knew she wasn’t wrong though as Stephen had the same suspicions. She smiled thinking of Stephen. He’d kissed her for the first time earlier. She hadn’t been surprised as she’d been in love with him forever. Well at least since they had met on the wagon train. She bit her lip as her body tingled remembering the touch of his lips against hers, the feel of his fingers as he held her face so tenderly. He had been so gentle.
“W
hat are you thinking about?” Sarah asked, her voice sounding stronger.
Carrie flushed as her sister’s voice intruded on such personal thoughts.
“Carrie Hughes, what have you been up to?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking about the material I saw in Newlands. It would be perfect for a new dress for the 4th July party.”
Sarah threw her eyes up to heaven. “I can believe a lot of things but since when did you care what you wore?”
Carrie didn’t answer. There was no point when Sarah was in one of her moods. Carrie quickly finished her hair and went downstairs. Let Sarah sulk. She had better things to do.
Carrie pushed open the kitchen door. Bridget was standing at the stove, her face as red as a tomato.
“Have you stopped running now Miss Carrie?” Bridget teased her.
“Yes thank you, Bridget. You look very hot. Do you want me to take over?”
“Bless you, child. I think I need to go stand in the doorway for a little while. I keep getting all hot and bothered.”
Carrie’s heart tightened. “Are you ill?”
“Not ill, child, just nature’s way of telling me my child bearin’ days are over. Seems to me women get the raw deal on this earth.”
Carrie stirred the gravy, embarrassed at what Bridget was saying. Although she should be used to their Irish maid. She’d been a straight talker from the first day she’d started working for the family.
“Bridget, why do you keep calling me a child? I am almost 15. That’s old.”
“Miss Carrie you only just turned 14. Why young’uns want to be older is beyond me,” Bridget shook her head. “ You will look back one day and wonder where all the years went.”
“But I am a woman now. Not a child.” Carrie hoped the housekeeper would think her cheeks had pinked up due to the heat of the stove.
“You are growin’ into a fine young woman Miss Carrie. I will try to remember not to call you a child again but you’ll have to forgive me if I forget. My old mind isn’t what it used to be. I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t stuck on my neck.”
“Bridget, you are not old. Not really. Grandma Della is older than you, isn’t she?” Carrie asked.
Bridget laughed loudly. “Don’t go sayin’ that in front of Miss Della. She’d not be too happy.”
“Grandma Della wouldn’t mind. Grandpa keeps telling her she is getting on.”
“Your grandpa is teasin’ her. Sure, he adores the bones of that woman. Easy tellin’ that was a love match.”
Carrie didn’t want to think of Jo’s parents being in love so changed the subject.
“Bridget, would you have time to help me make a new dress for the 4th of July dance?”
“Help you, Miss Carrie?” Bridget’s eyes glowed as she teased her.
Carrie flushed as her guilty gaze met Bridget’s. “I do try to sew nicely but you always say my seams are crooked.”
“You sew like you were blind, chil… sorry, love,” Bridget corrected herself quickly. “I tell you what. You take on some of my other chores and I will make your dress.”
Carrie beamed.
“Is there a special someone who will be at this dance Miss Carrie?” Bridget’s smiling eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Carrie’s heart beat so fast it hurt. She wanted to confide in Bridget but if she said anything, Stephen could be in trouble. She shook her head trying to make herself believe she wasn’t lying if she didn’t speak.
“Hmm, your face tells a different story. I reckon I can guess who the young man is too. He’s a good lad, strong and steady. Knows what he wants.”
“He is lovely, isn’t he?” Carrie clamped her hands over her mouth as Bridget smiled knowingly at her. “You tricked me.”
“No, love, I didn’t but you can't hide your feelings. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Miss Carrie. Always did right from the day I met you. You and Stephen Thompson make a fine couple but you know your pa thinks you are too young to be courtin’.”
“Pa is so old-fashioned and strict,” Carrie said stirring the meal furiously. She hated being critical of anyone but it was true, her folks lived in the last century. “Gretel Fredrickson is getting married next month and she is only 15.”
“Your pa only wants you to be happy. Miss Sarah wouldn’t listen to me and I guess you won't either. But Master Rick only ever does things to keep his family safe and well provided for.”
“Is that what is wrong with Sarah? Did she have a row with Pa?”
“Yes, Miss Carrie. Your sister wants to marry Edwin Morgan and your pa thinks she is too young.”
“She will always be too young to marry that boy. How could she like him? The Morgans hate everyone but particularly the Indians.” Carrie grimaced remembering the awful row she had witnessed between her uncle David Clarke and Edwin’s father. David had written about the horrible conditions the Indians were expected to endure on the reservations. Mr. Jarret had called David a whole range of names, only some of which Carrie understood.
“Yes, your pa is very upset. So it is best, for now, you don’t say anythin’ about you courtin. He has enough on his plate.”
Carrie stirred the gravy faster, her face screwed up in concentration. She hated thinking about illness. People who got ill died. Ma and Benjy hadn’t got any better when they got sick. Sarah had but only because Jo nursed her so well. Why couldn’t Jo fix Pa? She jumped as Bridget put her arm around her shoulders. She hadn’t heard the woman walk over to her.
“Don’t fret love. People get sick and get better all the time.”
“My real ma didn’t. And my brothers. What if…” Carrie couldn’t put her thoughts into words.
“Stop thinkin’ like that,” Bridget said soothingly. “Master Rick is strong. He will get better.”
Carrie hoped Bridget was right but she couldn’t help think her voice wasn’t as confident as her words.
“It’s all the trouble with the school board. I hate those people. First, they insisted we had two schools, one for the rich and another for the poor. Now they want to….”
“Good afternoon Miss Johanna, were you coming to check on dinner?” Bridget’s voice, louder than usual, cut across what Carrie had been saying. She looked up and caught Jo looking at her, her expression thoughtful. Carrie saw the deep black circles under her ma’s eyes and felt worse. How could she have been so happy earlier with Stephen when there was an illness in the house?
“Bridget, since when have I had to check on dinner?” Jo teased her housekeeper. “Carrie, darling. How nice to see you helping Bridget.”
“Thanks, Ma. Bridget is going to help…” at Bridget’s cough, Carrie corrected herself, “Bridget is going to make a new dress for me and I am going to do some of her chores in return.”
“I see. It took you a long time to admit defeat, Bridget. I thought you were determined to make my daughter sew like a professional.”
“She sews like something Miss Johanna but not like any seamstress I ever met,” Bridget responded rolling her eyes as she laughed.
Jo and Carrie laughed before Jo added, “I guess the world would be a boring place if we each had the same talents. I wish I could crochet like you Carrie, you have a real gift for making pretty things.”
“Thanks, Ma, you were the one who taught me how. I can make you a new collar for your dress and for Bridget.”
“I ain’t goin’ to the party,” Bridget said firmly.
“But you have to Bridget. There are lots of miners coming and they don’t have anyone to dance with. You might find yourself a new husband,” Carrie said. She wanted everyone to be just as happy as she was.
“One of them was enough for me, thank you, Miss Carrie. I never want to see a man’s boots under my bed again. Not if I live to be a hundred years old.” Bridget started banging some pots. It was time to leave her domain. Rick and Johanna may own the house but Bridget oversaw the kitchen.
Carrie and Jo decided to sit on the porch for a few minutes enjoying the last of the sun
shine.
“Ma, is Pa going to go see the doctor?”
“I don’t know Carrie. He says he will but he wants to wait until the school governors visit is over first.”
“I wish he would just start a new school. Like he did when we first came here. Then he could run it just as he wanted. He wouldn’t have to take orders from anyone.”
Jo linked her arm through Carrie’s. “Since when did you get so grown up? It seems like I closed my eyes and you have gone from being a little girl to a proper young woman. I feel old.”
“Ma, you’re not old. You’re not even thirty yet,” Carrie protested. She snuggled closer to her ma taking advantage of being alone with her. That was a rare occurrence given the busy household. “Why does Bridget get so annoyed when anyone talks about her getting married again? I was only joking.”
“I know love but Bridget didn’t have a good marriage. Her husband wasn’t like the men you know. He hated everyone including himself. He was very unkind to Bridget.”
Carrie didn’t know anything about Bridget’s husband other than he had died on his way to Oregon leaving Bridget to fend for herself. Like most people she couldn’t afford to go home so she stayed. She had written to her Daddy but he hadn’t responded. The Reverend had heard about Bridget, spoken to Rick and Bridget moved in shortly after.
“Is that why she lives with us? Because we aren’t rich enough to have a maid, are we?” Carrie asked.
“Bridget is so much more than our maid. She’s a member of our family,” Jo corrected Carrie softly.
“I wish she would just call me Carrie. Makes me feel funny, her calling me Miss.”
“I would prefer if she called me Jo or Johanna too, but Bridget has her ways, and we aren’t going to change them. We treat her the same as we would any other family member and that is all that matters. Now tell me about your plans for the dance?” Jo tilted her head to the side.
Carrie took a deep breath. How could she explain to her ma that she was in love with Stephen? He was Jo’s younger brother. The silence lingered. Jo grinned at Carrie before caressing her cheek. “Does my little brother figure in your plans?”
Oregon Discovery (Trails of the Heart Book 4) Page 5
