After a fitful sleep, she woke each morning and watched the passengers as they left the train station, always hoping that Cole would be one of them. But he never was.
And she was tired. Tired of fighting the inevitable.
She touched the cool surface of the tombstone. “You would have liked him, Randy. I know you don’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone, but I don’t think there’s any other future for me.”
She closed her eyes and recalled the last time she’d spoken to her husband. She placed the cool, damp cloth on his forehead and tried not to cry. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more terrified. He didn’t look good. His face was pale, and his breathing was rough. She’d prayed for him and read to him. But she could tell he wasn’t getting better.
The bitter wind pounded against the cabin and she pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. She hastened to the cook stove and threw in more wood, mentally calculating how much they had left. In the morning, if the snow let up, she’d go to the cellar and bring more up to the barn.
“Penelope.”
She turned to the raspy voice. She rushed over to him and grabbed his hand. “I’m here. What do you need?”
Opening his eyes, he looked at her. “I love you, sweetheart. You”--he coughed--“you know that. Don’t you?”
“Yes. I love you too. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Can’t you try?” He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in three days and nothing she tried made him want to have anything. “Please?”
“My time is coming, sweetheart. I’m going home.”
She shook her head and tightened her grip. “No! Fight, Randy. Don’t give up.” Her body trembled at the thought of letting him go. Why would God do this to her? To him?
He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m so glad you came to me. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He brushed the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Promise me you’ll marry again. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I don’t want anyone else!” Her voice choked and she could no longer control her sobbing. She embraced him and let her head settle on his chest. “Fight. Just hold on. If you can get through another night...”
“I’m sorry.” She felt his lips on the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”
Then his hold loosened and his arms fell back to his sides. She didn’t want to look up but knew she had to. When she saw his lifeless eyes staring ahead, she broke down and continued to cry on his chest. No more raspy breathing. No more heartbeat.
No more smiles. No more laughter. No more kisses and hugs. No more stupid fights over things that didn’t matter. No more working on the land together. No more friendship. No more love. In one moment, their marriage had become null and void, and all that was left was a piercing agony that wouldn’t let her go.
But in time, it did let her go. After she brought his body into town and watched the men lower his casket into the ground, she could never imagine loving anyone ever again. She knew he wanted her to. When the men came by for her while she stayed with Sandra for a month after the funeral, she quickly told each one she couldn’t have children and that was enough to get rid of them. Originally, that had been her intention. She didn’t want to marry again. Then she returned to her lone cabin and spent months trying to sort out why a loving God would allow such a thing to happen.
She didn’t have the answer. All she could do was trust in Him and carry on with her life. Everything had been mechanical and empty. Until she found Cole. Then there was a reason to live again. Maybe there would be a reason to live yet. If she couldn’t have the man she loved by her side, then maybe she could make someone else’s life easier.
She wiped her tears and took a deep breath to settle the emotions raging through her. “I’ll never forget you, Randy. Thank you for the year we had together.”
She stood and walked back to the wagon. She climbed into her seat and picked up a canister. She held it to the woman in the passenger seat. “Water?”
The young Indian turned her eyes to her. “W-ater,” she slowly pronounced.
Penelope pretended to drink from it to show her what she meant.
Martha nodded. “Water.” She took the canister and drank from it.
Penelope wasn’t sure what made her offer to take Martha back with her. The poor thing was younger than her, but she wasn’t a child either. The growing child in her womb was so large that Penelope guessed she was within a month of giving birth. And though Martha couldn’t speak her language, Penelope saw a fear in her eyes. For some reason, Martha didn’t feel safe. As soon as she learned that a group of Indians was searching for her in town, Penelope understood that Martha had run from them. Why? She might not ever know. But she wouldn’t allow the young woman to go where she didn’t want to be.
After Penelope took the time to draw out a map to her cabin, Martha agreed to come with her, and Martha looked so relieved that Penelope somehow knew she was doing the right thing.
Martha finished drinking and pointed to the grave.
“Husband. My husband. He’s dead,” she whispered.
She pointed to herself. “My husband dead.”
Penelope gave her new friend a closer look. “Your husband is dead? Like that?” She motioned to the grave.
“He dead.” She made a swinging motion, letting her hand stop at her neck.
Though she couldn’t be sure, Penelope thought Martha was telling her that her husband had been beheaded. And white men were more likely to use guns than something that swung. Something that swung? An axe? Indians used axes. If she put the pieces together well enough, the Indians killed Martha’s husband, which explained her fear.
Penelope took a deep breath and eyed the rifle the peaked from under their seat. If they ran into trouble, she’d need to be prepared. She reached out and touched Martha’s arm. “Friend.” Then she pointed to herself. “Friend.”
Martha smiled. “Fr...end.”
Penelope nodded. “Friend.” Then she picked up the reins, released the brake, and let the horses take them home.
Chapter Eleven
Penelope pointed to the horse and looked at Martha.
“Orse,” Martha said.
“Horse,” Penelope corrected.
“H...horse.”
“Good. You’re doing good.” She smiled and pointed to the hay.
Martha shook her head.
“Hay. Horse eats hay.”
“Hay food.”
“Yes. For horses.”
Penelope decided that Martha had learned enough for now, so she led the younger woman back to the house. She grabbed four potatoes and set them on the table.
“Potato cut?” Martha asked.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Penelope hastened to grab the knife from the shelf and gave it to Martha. “I’m going to get the meat from the cellar. I’ll be right back.”
Martha shook her head.
Penelope thought over her words. “Me get meat. Food. To eat.”
“Yes. Eat.”
Penelope smiled and went to grab the meat from the deer that Cole had shot before she helped him cut the deer and preserve the meat. The sight of it shouldn’t have brought tears to her eyes but it did. When would she be able to go about her business around her home and not be haunted by his memory? She should recall Randy since he built it. But she didn’t. She thought of Cole.
Sighing, she wiped the tears and grabbed the slab of meat to take back to the cabin. When she saw Martha gasping in pain, she ran over to her. “Martha?” She threw the meat on the table and sat her in a chair.
“Baby,” Martha said, holding her stomach.
“Baby is coming?”
“Baby. Hurt.”
There was no doubt about it. Martha was probably in the early stages of labor. Penelope took the knife from Martha and set it on the table.
Martha relaxed and looked at her. “Happy..
.to be...friend.”
She smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’m happy to be your friend too. Baby is coming. That’s good.”
`“Good.”
“Maybe painful but good.” Penelope pointed to her. “Mother.” Then she pointed to her belly. “Baby.” Penelope decided to get things ready for the birth.
As the day passed into night, Penelope did everything she could to make Martha comfortable. It was around one in the morning when Martha gave her last push and Penelope caught the baby in her hands. After a moment, the baby gave out its first cry. Penelope laughed and gave the little girl to her mother.
Martha held her child and cried. The pain of labor had been replaced with tears of joy, and Penelope was glad to see a person born in this place after there’d been death and sorrow over the past year. It was time for happiness.
“Girl,” Penelope told Martha.
“Girl. Baby girl.”
Penelope nodded before she set to the task of cleaning things up.
***
Two weeks passed with the two women taking turns staying awake to care for the baby. Penelope found that both Martha and her baby brought a sense of comfort in her life. Even with the heartache still fresh, at least she wasn’t alone in the world anymore.
The late morning brought a clear blue sky and enough wind to cool the summer heat, so Penelope decided she’d weed the garden before it got too hot in the day. She glanced at Martha who slept with her baby before she slipped on Randy’s gloves and tied her hat around her head. She didn’t often wear a hat but thought she should to avoid burning her skin.
As she stepped out of the house, she caught sight of a familiar figure. She stood still, not believing her eyes. He came back in her dreams but not in real life. And yet here she was, wide awake, and he was here. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Cole. It was Cole. He had returned!
She wanted to run to him but shock held her in place, so she waited as he approached her, his steps slow as if he wasn’t sure she’d welcome him back. But how could she not when she loved him?
He stopped a short distance from her and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I love you, Penelope. I don’t deserve you. You’re a good woman, but I’ve made a real mess of my life. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and after I tell you what they are, you may not want to be with me. You see, I-”
“Are you married?” she interrupted. That was the only reason she could think of that would not make her want to be with him. She prayed that wasn’t what he meant.
He shook his head. “No.”
The sense of relief she felt at knowing for sure overwhelmed her. She exhaled. “I thought when you left me, it was because you were already married. I thought you had a wife to go back to.”
“No. I was married, but I got a divorce two years ago. I caught her sleeping with my brother. But there are other things, things you should know.”
She stepped forward, bridging the gap between them. Other things? What did they matter? He wasn’t married. He was free to be with her! “Cole, I don’t care what you’ve done. I just care about who you are. The past doesn’t matter. You can’t change it.”
He bent his head, but she caught the tear that trickled down his cheek.
No more tears. She’d seen enough of them to last a lifetime. Smiling, she reached up and brushed it away.
He took her hand in his and kissed it. His lips were warm. His actions gentle. “I love you. I want to make a life here with you. Will you come to town with me? We’ll leave right away and find that preacher you mentioned.”
She laughed. “I’ll marry you, Cole. But we should have something to eat first. Then we need to get ready for the trip.”
“Alright, but let’s be quick about it. I’ve waited too long to meet someone like you, and I don’t want to waste any more time.”
She didn’t want to waste any more time either. She stepped up on her toes and kissed him, glad she was finally free to express her love to him. And as strange as it was, she felt as if Randy was happy for her. When the kiss ended, she leaned against him and closed her eyes, enjoying the way he held her.
“This isn’t getting things done to go to town,” he said.
She chuckled. “Are you impatient?”
“I just want to make sure you don’t change your mind.”
“You have no need to worry about that.” Reluctant, she pulled away from him. “Cole, there’s something that happened while you were gone. When I was in town, I was visiting Randy’s sister and she introduced me to Martha. I don’t know anything about her except that she’s an Indian who is hiding from someone. She gave birth a couple weeks ago here, and her child is lighter than her.”
“You think a white man is the father?”
“There’s no doubt about it, but she’s scared and needs someone to help her.”
“Do you plan to keep her here?”
“I thought it would be best.”
He caressed her cheek. “You have a good heart. As much as I admire that about you, I want you all to myself so I’m going to build her a cabin. That should be a good spot.” He motioned to a section of land that was half an acre from where they stood. “I want to do some things with you that wouldn’t be appropriate for others to see.”
Blushing, she playfully shoved him away. “Not until we’re married.”
“Why do you think I’m anxious to get to town?”
“Well, if you’re that anxious, then you won’t mind getting the horses and wagon ready?”
“It’d be my pleasure to do anything for you.” He kissed her before he headed for the barn.
Heart light, she went to the house.
Chapter Twelve
Cole rode the steed while Penelope, Martha and the baby took the wagon. He wanted to be close to Penelope so he could touch her, but he reminded himself that later that day when they reached town, they’d be married and then he could stay in the same room with her at the inn. Then he’d be able to kiss and hold her at his leisure. He smiled at the thought of finally being able to enjoy a woman who loved him back.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Penelope had stopped the wagon until she called his name. Stopping the horse, he glanced back. “Is something wrong with the wagon?”
Penelope pointed to the south.
He turned his gaze in that direction and frowned. What were the chances that someone would be this far out from town at the same time they were? He’d only traveled this path three times now but he never saw anyone an hour outside of town. Squinting, he barely made out the fact that the three riders weren’t white. He looked over at Penelope and saw that she had grabbed a rifle from under her seat. She motioned for Martha to hide in the wagon.
This didn’t seem promising. Cole drew closer to the women just as Penelope covered Martha and the baby with a blanket. “Who are they?” he asked, his body primed to fight.
“Martha can’t tell from here, but she thinks they are Sioux.” Penelope turned to him. “What do you think we should do?”
“Get under that blanket with her. I’ll take care of this.”
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“Yes.” Okay, so it was a BB gun, but he did manage a good shot at the cans when he was younger. The real thing couldn’t be much different. “Give me the gun.”
She did as he ordered and, to his shock, she pulled out another one.
“What are you doing?”
“Two of us stand a better chance against them.”
“No. I won’t let you risk your life like this. Now, get under the blanket.” He glanced at the approaching riders. Three men. Indian. He’d seen a couple of Native Americans in Devils Lake, but they had been wearing white man’s clothes. These looked like they came right out of a movie. He took a deep breath to stabilize his nerves. If they weren’t heading toward them at breakneck speed, he might have had time to think of a good plan.
Penelope had already jump
ed off the wagon and hid behind a wheel. She peered around the side of it before she waved him over. “They have arrows. You better get behind the wagon before one of them shoots you.”
Partly annoyed because she was able to keep a clear head when all he could think of was “Run!”, he tied the horse’s reins to the wagon and obeyed her. The horse stayed by him but shifted, as if uncertain about what to do. He’s not the only one. Cole knelt behind the other wheel and tried to get rid of the ringing in his ears so he could focus. He was a scientist, not a gunfighter, for goodness’ sakes!
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he whispered to Penelope. “You should be hiding.”
“But I’m good at shooting. I can help you.”
Well, that was probably true. “Okay. Just stay out of sight. If anyone has to run out there, it’s going to be me.” He prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
“Woape!” one of the Indians called out.
Cole turned to Penelope.
“That must be her real name,” she whispered.
Cole peered around the side of the wheel and saw the three men on their horses. He gulped when he realized they had their arrows pointed at the wagon. Terrific. All he wanted to do was get married, and now that might not be happening. At this point, he didn’t even mind not getting married. He just wanted all of them to get out of this alive.
“Woape!”
The Indian continued to speak in a language that Cole didn’t understand. Then, to his shock, Penelope replied. Her words came out stilted and slow, but she spoke the same language that the Indian did.
When Penelope stood up, he grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper.
“I think it’s alright. I’m going to talk to them.”
“But...” He glanced around the wheel and saw that the Indians were still holding their bows and arrows. “But they have weapons.”
A Chance In Time Page 5
