The Long Way Home
Page 14
‘‘You’re out early.’’ Zachary spoke from behind her, startling her, since she hadn’t heard his crutch step.
She waited a moment for him to ask about their aunt. And when he didn’t, she felt like shaking him.
‘‘Aunt awoke.’’
A cardinal sang for his mate, rich notes threading the rising humidity. Louisa rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.
‘‘We’ll talk when I return.’’
Zachary turned and crutch-stepped his way back through the kitchen. His position at the law office kept him away until dusk, and many times, he had meetings in the evening. He never asked a single question about Aunt Sylvania’s condition. Mama would have given him a lecture, Louisa thought. Not only a lecture on his lack of manners, but one on his Christian duty. If he weren’t my brother, I don’t think I’d even like him anymore.
The thought made her gasp. Here she was criticizing him for lack of Christian duty, and look at her. She picked up her basket and shears from the shelf by the door and headed out to the rosebushes to cut flowers for the breakfast table and find a special bud for Aunt Sylvania. She did love her roses, and waking to the scent of roses in her room might make her feel a bit better.
When the doctor arrived after dinner, he greeted Sylvania with a broad smile.
‘‘You are looking much better, my dear, far better than I feared.’’ He took her hands. ‘‘Now, then, squeeze with your left. Good. Now the right. Umm.’’ He nodded. ‘‘Now let’s get you out of that bed and see how well your feet and legs work.’’
‘‘But I am in my nightdress.’’
His smile and her consternation made Louisa smile. Here they were concerned about the lingering affects of apoplexy and her aunt was worried about a man, a doctor, for pity’s sake, seeing her in her nightdress.
Together, an arm on either side of her, they helped Sylvania up on her feet.
‘‘Oh, I’m dizzy.’’
They let her sit back on the edge of the bed.
‘‘Better now?’’ The doctor rubbed Sylvania’s hands. He glanced to Louisa. ‘‘You can help her by rubbing her hand and foot, even the side of her face, gently at first and then with more strength as she improves.’’
Abby nodded from her position at the foot of the bed. ‘‘We does that.’’
‘‘Still dizzy?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘Let’s get you vertical then.’’ Slowly they eased her to her feet. Louisa watched her aunt’s face for any signs of faintness. They stood still, waiting for any sign from Sylvania. When she nodded, Louisa tightened her grip on her aunt’s waist.
‘‘Left foot first.’’ The three took one step at the same time. A small step, but movement nonetheless.
‘‘Right foot.’’ The doctor’s glance warned Louisa to be on guard. Another small step.
‘‘I did it.’’ Sylvania gripped Louisa’s hand with a strength born of fear.
‘‘And another.’’ They tottered as far as the brocade chair and settled her into it.
‘‘I feel like I walked clear downtown.’’ Sylvania slumped against the chair back, her left hand on the padded arm, her right lying in her lap. She looked up at the doctor standing by her side. ‘‘Now, what happened to me?’’
She started to turn to the mirror, but Louisa nonchalantly stepped in front of it. The visible damage could be seen later, when Sylvania grew stronger.
Right now Louisa could believe that would happen. Memories of a neighbor at home who’d never been able to speak nor feed herself after such as this skulked back into the lair from which they came.
While Abby and Louisa changed the bed and fluffed up the pillows, Sylvania and the doctor visited, him telling her a story that brought out a chuckle.
‘‘All right, now I reckon it’s about time you walk back to bed. I expect you to get up every day. The more you walk, the stronger you will become.’’
After they settled Sylvania in her bed again, with a sigh of relief on her part, Louisa followed the doctor down to the front door.
‘‘Sure you wouldn’t like to stay for some lemonade?’’
‘‘No, I must get on. Fill an old sock with dried beans or rice and make her—’’
At the raising of Louisa’s eyebrow, he chuckled.
‘‘I know, making Miss Sylvania do anything is a miracle in its own right, but she needs to squeeze that sock over and over if she wants to regain the use of that hand.’’
‘‘We’ll keep reminding her. Thank you for coming by.’’ She watched as he strode down the walk and climbed into his buggy. With his shoulders rounding and the slight limp, he looked to have aged ten years in the last twelve months. He was good at telling others to take care of themselves, but what about him?
Louisa looked up toward Aunt Sylvania’s window. Not being able to sew or knit with only one hand would make her downright cantankerous. Or drive her to work her hand harder.
Could she leave right now? Could Abby and Reuben take care of not only their soldiers but also Miss Sylvania? Who could she find to come in and help? Ah, if only Lucinda were here.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fort Laramie
There was knowing, and then there was knowing.
Jesselynn stretched her hands above her head and watched the dust motes dance on the sunbeams lilting in the window. Sheer white curtains billowed in the breeze, a breeze that felt cool as springwater on her arms. She glanced to the side to see the dished place where her husband’s head had lain on the pillow. She stretched again, enjoying the lassitude.
Wolf had kissed her good-bye sometime after dawn, with the birds still twittering their morning wake-up call. He’d said she should sleep as long as she wanted. No one would come by to disturb her, or they would answer to him. The remembered growl in his voice made her smile again.
Smiles came easy this morning, her very first morning as Mrs. Gray Wolf Torstead.
She could hear soldiers marching out on the parade grounds where the wedding guests had danced the day before. Most likely she had danced with some of the men out there. Her feet reminded her that she’d danced with most everyone west of the Missouri. Or at least it seemed that way.
Ah, the only thing that would have made the day shine more brightly was if Louisa and Carrie Mae could have been here. And Lucinda. That thought brought an immediate dimming to the smile that echoed clear through her. They would most likely feel the same as Aunt Agatha. At least Zachary would. That was for certain sure.
She threw back the covers and reached for the dressing gown that Rebeccah had so thoughtfully provided, along with the nightdress, the pins for her hair, and the rose water she’d splashed on before retiring.
She closed her eyes. Yes, Wolf had liked the rose water.
Dressing gown belted in place, she ambled out to the kitchen of the quarters, where a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, butter, and milk sat under cheesecloth on the counter. The coffeepot was still warm, pushed to the back of the stove. She sliced off two pieces of bread and enough cheese to cover them and poured herself a cup of milk. Who needed coffee anyway on a morning like this?
Once she’d finished eating and washed up her knife and cup, she peeked out the window, standing off to the side so no one would see her. No Appaloosa in sight. He’d said she should sleep until he came to wake her. By the angle of the sun, the morning was half gone, and she had a pile of things to do if they were to leave for the Chugwater in the morning.
Within minutes she was dressed in a shirt, britches, and boots. Clapping her sorry hat on her head, she headed out the door, smack dab into a broad chest that rumbled with laughter.
‘‘Whoa.’’ Wolf steadied her by grasping her upper arms. ‘‘You look to be in a real hurry, ma’am. Is there somethin’ I can help you with?’’
Her hat fell behind without her notice as he captured her lips with his.
‘‘Wolf, people will see us.’’ She murmured the words against lips that drew back only a little.
‘‘You sure this is the way newly married folk behave?’’
‘‘If they can.’’ He drew her over to a chair and pulled her down in his lap. ‘‘Now, Mrs. Torstead, where were you goin’ in such a rush?’’
‘‘To find you, I think. Or was it back to my wagons? You get my head all mixed up.’’ She clasped her hands around the back of his neck. ‘‘I like that Mrs. Torstead name.’’
‘‘Good thing. It’s yours now.’’
‘‘I like that Mr. Torstead name too.’’ Would it be too forward if she kissed him first? She did so without hesitating. He didn’t seem to mind.
‘‘So what have you been doing?’’
‘‘While you slept, you mean?’’
‘‘Um.’’ She hid a yawn behind her hand. ‘‘I haven’t been this lazy since . . .’’ The sun dimmed for her. Since Mother died, and I had to take over the managing of Twin Oaks. A sigh slipped out before she could catch it.
She opened her eyes to see him studying her. Laying her head on his shoulder, she picked up one of his hands and placed hers against it, palm to palm. ‘‘My mother taught me how to be a good wife. I can manage a plantation, keep the slaves busy and in order, keep up the household accounts, the entire plantation accounts if need be. I know how to cook, put up food for the entire plantation, garden, sew a fine seam, entertain the kinfolk and the men who come calling on the husband, read Greek and Latin. My father taught me to ride, along with how to shoot a gun, and raise tobacco—from field preparation to drying, shipping, and selling.’’ She ticked off each skill on her fingertips.
‘‘She taught you well.’’
She jerked up right. ‘‘How do you know?’’ At the look on his face, she thumped him on the chest, a saucy grin tickling her cheeks. ‘‘Wolf! You taught me that.’’ She nestled her cheek back into his shoulder. ‘‘Thank you for this morning.’’
‘‘You are very welcome.’’ He leaned forward. ‘‘Now, I have work to do, and Meshach has already been by to see what you wanted him to do.’’
‘‘But of all those things I know to do’’—she shook her head, her hair teasing his chin—‘‘not many are needed out here in the wilderness.’’
‘‘No, but you already have added many more things. You can tan hides, sew shirts out of either buckskin or cloth, cook over a campfire, drive a wagon, train horses or oxen, skin a rabbit or deer or whatever needs skinning, including a buffalo, birth foals, and while there’ll be no call for harvesting tobacco’’—he kissed the tips of her fingers—‘‘you have made one man bone-deep happy and sometime, God willing, you’ll be raising sons and daughters along with those foals that will pay for the things we can’t raise.’’
Jesselynn could feel the blush start below her neck and flame its way up to her forehead.
‘‘I declare, Mr. Torstead, the way you talk.’’ She fingered the fringe on his buckskin shirt. ‘‘There is something I haven’t told you.’’
‘‘We have our entire lives to find things to tell.’’
‘‘I know, but this is different.’’ She sat up straight and looked into his eyes. ‘‘Someday, when that cursed war is finally over, I want to take breeding stock back to Twin Oaks.’’
‘‘Domino?’’
‘‘Perhaps. But if the colt develops like he looks to be, him for sure, maybe the two fillies. Both mares took.’’ She tipped her head slightly to one side. ‘‘That means fewer for sale in the next couple of years.’’
‘‘We’ll send all the horses we can, but keep in mind that I, you and I, cannot live in Kentucky.’’
‘‘I know, and someone famous once wrote, ‘You cannot go back.’ The life I knew will never be there again. Even if someday Zachary can rebuild the big house, it will not be the same. The war has destroyed life as we lived it.’’ She could feel the tears burning the backs of her throat and eyes. ‘‘I wish you could have seen it.’’
‘‘Had you stayed there, you would not be here.’’ His hand stroked the nape of her neck.
‘‘I know.’’ She dredged up a grin so that she would not cry. ‘‘God sure does work in mysterious ways.’’ She leaned forward and butterfly-kissed his smiling lips. When she started to stand, he held her back.
‘‘I am grateful every day to our God and Father that you came west.’’
‘‘Even if you almost refused us passage with your wagon train?’’
He groaned. ‘‘That was business.’’
‘‘Bad business.’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I will never understand why you allowed the Jones brothers to join up but almost refused us.’’ She looked at him again, her head continuing to move from side to side.
‘‘Me neither.’’ He set her on her feet and rose. ‘‘Let’s be on out to the wagons.’’
‘‘I have to return my dresses first.’’ She gazed at the creamy silk hanging on a hanger. ‘‘That most surely is a lovely dress.’’ She caressed the material again. ‘‘Wolf, I do have a skirt in the wagon.’’
‘‘Good. Let it stay there. You can use it when we come into the fort if you like. Britches are much more practical where we are going. Oglala women wear deerskin leggings under a deerskin shift. No skirts to get in the way.’’ He thought a moment. ‘‘At least they used to. My mother did beautiful bead and quill designs on her clothes, and my father’s too. Even moccasins testified to her love of beauty.’’
Jesselynn held perfectly still. For once, she had a glimmer into his life as a child. A life so foreign to her that she wondered if she would ever understand it anymore than he would understand life at Twin Oaks. After a moment she folded the garments over her arm so that nothing dragged and went out of the door ahead of him.
Someday they’d have a house too. But for now . . . She sucked in a deep breath. For now she must go back to the real world, of Aunt Agatha, slow plodding oxen, dust, and distances. ‘‘I’ll hurry.’’
They left in the morning as planned, waving good-bye to the Jespersons, who figured on waiting for the next wagon train heading west. Scouts reported there was another train three days out. Jesselynn rode Ahab, she and Wolf at the head of their small train, the two packhorses on lines behind the last wagon, driven by Meshach. Aunt Agatha managed to lead the train without talking to either Jesselynn or Wolf. When Jesselynn gave thought to her aunt, she caught herself sighing.
This could be a long trip and a hard winter if Agatha kept her mouth pursed like that and went out of her way to avoid sitting by them or joining in conversation. But how could Jes-selynn uninvite her along? There was no place for her at Fort Laramie.
Lord God, this is beyond me. I’ve done everything I can, short of not marrying, and she will not bend an inch. Yet I know she respected Wolf as the wagon master, thought he was fine man. Fine for everything but marrying into the Highwood family.
She knew Zachary would feel the same way, so the letters she sent to Richmond and Twin Oaks made no mention of the wedding. She just said they had decided to go north instead of on to Oregon. Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth either.
Riding with Wolf certainly beat riding alone or driving a wagon. He pointed out buffalo wallows, places where deer spent the daylight hours, and a slide for river otters. Benjamin fished the deep pools of the Chugwater River that snaked across a valley belly-deep in rich grass. Daniel’s snares netted rabbits.
‘‘Why don’t we settle here?’’ Jesselynn looked back over her shoulder at grass shimmering in the sun as it turned from green to gold. ‘‘There’s hay aplenty and—’’
‘‘And the river floods in wet years, and we would be forced to build all over again. There is grass also in the valley I know of. And we will be bothered less up the river.’’
‘‘Bothered?’’
‘‘My tribe travels through here from summer to wi
nter hunting. I do not want to be in their way.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
‘‘Other tribes too, and sometimes they war on one another.’’
‘‘I see.’’ But she didn’t. The word ‘‘war’’ made her want to head south again to the Oregon Trail. Would she never be free of war?
The second day they left the verdant valley and traveled between hillocks as they followed the south branch of the river, now more like a creek. Willows and other brush lined the waterway, and grass grew deep on the flats, but the hills around them wore sparser blankets of golden grasses. Hawks and eagles screed above them, huge ravens announced their passage, grouse thrummed in the evenings. Deer and pronged antelope leaped the hills while Wolf promised elk in the mountains ahead.
The great sky arched in changing shades of such blue as to take one’s breath away. They saw no other humans but themselves.
‘‘Come, I have something to show you.’’ Wolf mounted his Appaloosa and waited for her to mount Ahab. ‘‘Just follow along the creek,’’ he instructed Benjamin who, mounted on Domino, scouted ahead for the wagons. ‘‘We won’t be gone long. We’ll be at camp before nightfall.’’
‘‘Yes, suh.’’ Benjamin touched one finger to the brim of his hat. ‘‘That be good.’’
Nudging the horses to a lope, the two riders edged the creek a ways before Wolf set the Appaloosa at a hill. Up and down they walked and trotted until Wolf stopped with a raised hand. ‘‘See.’’
Jesselynn stopped and looked ahead to where he pointed. A small valley, shaped like a bowl, lay before her, hills mounding on all four sides. On the face of the tallest hill three caves faced south. ‘‘While I hadn’t planned on this many people, we can make do. Brush fences can keep the horses in the valley. See there and there.’’ He pointed to low places, like small ravines, that led into the bowl. ‘‘We can bring logs from up in the mountains, or use rock, to build walls. This will keep us through the winter.’’