Oregon Disaster

by Rachel Wesson

  The laundry owner’s intake of breath reminded Sarah she hadn’t looked in the mirror.

  “He’d been drinking I see. Can’t understand how some treat their wives so badly. You best go see the doc.”

  “I can’t afford to. I’ll be fine.” Sarah hoped that if she said she was fine often enough, it would come true.

  Mrs. Brown shrugged her shoulders. “Your decision I guess. She eyed Sarah for a minute and then walked away muttering, “Those shirts won’t clean themselves.”

  Sarah pushed her hair out of her eyes and, taking as deep a breath as possible, she began to work. It was pure agony, but she had to keep going. She wondered where Edwin had gone now. Was he ever going to marry her? Did she really want to tie herself to a man like that? Bit late now. As Grandma Della would say, she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, wincing at the movement. She would give anything to be home in Portland but her family wouldn’t accept her. Not now.

  Chapter 10

  She worked hard for most of the day trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her stomach. Her cheek ached too, not to mention the lump on her head. Mrs. Brown let Sarah go home early, another unexpected kindness. As she trudged along the street, she hoped nobody she recognized would see her. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and try to seek refuge in sleep.

  “About time you showed up. Is a man expected to cook his own dinner?”

  Sarah opened and closed her mouth like a fish. He had a nerve. He hadn’t even winced at the bruise on her face or noticed how slowly she walked. He really was a self-centered son of a...

  She ignored him as she started to prepare a meal she didn’t want. If she didn’t feed him, he was likely to beat her again and her body couldn’t stand much more. She heated up the previous night’s leftover stew in silence but he didn’t comment. As soon as she put the plate in front of him, he started shoveling the food into his mouth and didn’t speak again until the plate was clean. No word of thanks either.

  “Met Faulkner last night. He’s agreed to let you work off our debt.”

  Sarah couldn’t move. She didn’t believe what she was hearing. Instinctively she picked up the ladle she’d used to reheat the stew. She turned toward him, holding the ladle in the folds of her dress.

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard. Don’t look at me like that. Its not like you don’t enjoy it. Now you can earn some money at the same time.”

  “I won’t do it,” she forced every ounce of confidence into her voice.

  “Yes, you will.” He didn’t even look at her.

  “No, Edwin, I won’t. I am not going to entertain any of Faulkner’s friends or yours for that matter. I am not that type of girl.”

  He was quicker than she realized and was right in her face twisting her arm painfully behind her back.

  “But you are, aren’t you Sarah? Where were you last night? You didn’t sleep in my bed and you weren’t here, so whose bed did you warm?”

  Sarah wanted to hit him with the ladle, but she couldn’t reach. Not when he had her pinned against the wall, her other hand behind her back.

  “I hate you,” she hissed at him.

  He laughed. “Do I look like I care? I’m only thankful I didn’t marry you. I…”

  “Move away gently lad, or you will have a sore head.”

  Panic made his eyes flare as Mrs. Mulligan stood over him with a piece of wood in her hand. He moved toward her but she was ready for him.

  “Don’t even try it. Mr. Mulligan, he’s right outside and he don’t take kindly to anyone manhandling me. Now leave Sarah alone and get out of here while you still can.”

  Edwin looked from the woman to the wooden weapon and back to her face. Obviously deciding she was a serious threat, he quickly released Sarah. “She’s nothing but a whore anyway. You are welcome to her and her brat!”

  Sarah couldn’t see Mrs. Mulligan’s face through her tears. She was mortified, not only because her landlady had to rescue her but now she knew both her secrets. She wasn’t married and she had a babe on the way. Edwin grabbed some of Sarah’s belongings, but she was too distraught to argue. And then he was gone. Mrs. Mulligan made sure he had left before locking the door behind him. She came back into Sarah’s room. Sarah hadn’t moved from the wall. Her legs didn’t feel too steady.

  “He’s a right nasty piece of work. What’s a girl like you doing with a man like that?”

  “I thought he loved me. He wanted to marry me but now…”

  “Aw lass, you made a mess of things haven’t you? I wish there was something I could do for you but Mr. Mulligan, he won’t stand for any carrying on. He has to think about his position as an elder in his church. If it were up to me, I would let you stay but you will have to go after tonight.”

  Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re throwing me out? But I have nowhere, no one.” She hated begging, but she didn’t have any choice.

  “You should have thought about that before you engaged in…well you know. Goodnight dear. I hope things work out for you, I truly do.”

  Mrs. Mulligan left as Sarah stared at her in silence. There was no point in arguing. Mr. Mulligan had very strict opinions and there was no way he would help her. In his eyes, she was exactly what Edwin had called her.

  She sat at the table in despair. What was she going to do now?

  Chapter 11

  Bear sat at his makeshift camp. He had packed up earlier with the intention of going home but something had stopped him. Or rather, someone.

  He didn’t want to admit that he was worried about Miss Sassy. Of course he didn’t trust Morgan, but she was old enough to make her own choices. Bear half considered kidnapping her and taking her forcefully back to Walking Tall and the others. But that wouldn’t work. Walking Tall wouldn’t thank him for bringing the Army on top of them. Miss Sassy would hate him too. No, it was best he leave her to her life and try to get on with his own. What was he going to do when he returned to the main camp? He had no reason for staying. He had paid back his debt to Walking Tall. Well, as much as he could. How could you repay someone for saving your life?

  And he couldn’t stay among the Indians, not anymore. While they accepted him, the elders wouldn’t let their daughters mate with him. Just like Tala, he would never fit in one world. Tala and his offspring would never be accepted as wolves or as dogs. He was a mongrel just like Tala. His mixed blood would pass on to the next generation. Maybe he could go and join the army. War was coming. He knew that from the little he had heard from the whites. He could fight against those who held the black people in irons. But would the army accept him? Wasn’t he just as red as his mother? In their eyes?

  He closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought about his mother in a long time, his memories of her having faded over the years. He remembered her washing her long jet black hair and drying it near the fire. His father, or the man he assumed was his father, had been in the army. He had loved his mother, of that Bear had no doubt. He had seen the way the man had looked at her and held her, but he didn’t love her enough to acknowledge her in public or bring him back to live with him at the fort. His mother had drowned herself when she found out he was marrying a white woman.

  She had let herself believe he would marry her and introduce her to the white man’s world. Bear had been eight and Snow Maiden had been fourteen when they’d found her. Snow Maiden had looked after him for a while until John Redskin arrived. He was about ten years older than Snow Maiden and seemed kind. He was from a mixed relationship too, said he understood their lives and would look after them both. But he hadn’t.

  Walking Tall had taken him to his camp, into his teepee. His women had cleaned his cuts and saved him from infection. Then the braves had coached him in the art of self protection. He could kill silently now with his bare hands or his knife. He had all the skills he would have learned if his mother had returned to live with her tribe, which had cast her out years before. Walking Tal
l’s family was like a family to him, but he knew he was ultimately on his own. Just him and Tala.

  Bear shifted again. He would check on Miss Sassy one last time before he returned to Walking Tall’s camp. He owed his friend that much at least.

  * * *

  After a fitful night’s sleep, Sarah gathered her meager possessions. What was she going to do? There were no suitable lodgings in the town that she could afford. She stifled a tear. No point in giving into tears as that wasn’t going to do her any good. She cleaned the room leaving it tidier than when she had moved in. Mrs. Mulligan was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Mulligan took the key without a word. If she had any doubts that Mrs. Mulligan had been wrong about her husband’s views, they vanished immediately at the look on his face. He didn’t even meet her eyes. To him she was a soiled dove. Someone whose existence tainted his person.

  Closing her eyes, she said a quick prayer for guidance. She couldn’t help wishing she were back at home with Jo, Rick, Carrie and the rest of her family.

  Chapter 12

  Portland, Oregon

  Jo looked out the window of her newly built home. It had a different shape to the one she had shared with Rick. The one that had burnt down. Rick. She knew she’d miss him, but she hadn’t been prepared for the painful reality. Every day she woke up thinking she must tell Rick something only to find the empty space beside her. She rubbed a hand over her swollen stomach. Their baby was due in a month. Jo closed her eyes, she had to be both father and mother to this child. She didn’t have time to dwell on her loneliness or the fact she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye. Rick would expect her to go on with her life and provide a happy childhood for Carrie, the twins, and this little one.

  “Would you like a cup of tea Miss Johanna?” Bridget asked, popping her face around the bedroom door. “I am right glad you took my advice and had a sleep in. You won’t get much sleeping done when the little one is born.”

  Jo lowered her body into the chair near the window. She was tired, her ankles were swollen and her emotions were all over the place.

  “You feeling all right Miss Johanna? You look very pale.”

  “I had another dream. I didn’t want to wake up,” Jo said. “I miss him so much.”

  “I know love, and you’ll go on missing him. Mr. Rick, he was one of the nicest men I’ve known. He would be so proud of you, the way you have cared for this family. Carrie and the twins are lucky to have you as a mother.”

  “Bridget, you won’t leave me will you?”

  “Never. Whatever gave you that idea?” Bridget looked shocked.

  “I was reading in the paper about the women who are going to work as nurses or cooks for the army if there is War. I wondered if you would want to go.”

  “Not in a million years, Miss Johanna. War is never right. I don’t care what the men say. The only people who benefit from wars are those that make gunpowder and cannons. The rest of us suffer. Nobody really wins and I don’t think any problem is ever solved.” Bridget stood, hands on her hips as if she were about to do battle with someone. “Truth be told, if men had babies they wouldn’t be so quick to start wars. And they say women are the weaker sex. Hmph!”

  Jo couldn’t resist smiling. Once Bridget got annoyed, her Irish temper flared like a lit match. She hadn’t realized how strongly the woman disagreed with the war.

  “Now, Miss Johanna, that doesn't mean I won’t do my bit. I will knit socks and scarves just like every other woman in America. But I will do it after I look after you and your family. You are my priority.”

  Tears filled Jo’s eyes. “Thank you Bridget, but it’s our family. Everyone considers you part of it. We adopted you just as we adopted Carrie and Almanzo. I wish you could call me Jo. Miss Johanna is way too formal. Couldn’t you try it? It would make me so happy.”

  “Oh now, Miss Johanna,” Bridget paused at Jo’s raised eyebrows, “Jo, you aren’t being fair. You know I would do just about anything to try to make you happy. “

  “Well, calling me by my name isn’t a lot to ask is it?” Jo said a mischievous smile on her face. “While you are at it, Miss Carrie and Mr. Almanzo would prefer you called them by their first names too.”

  “Miss—I mean, Jo, you are wicked. You got me so I can’t say no to you. I never did see a servant call her mistress by her first name.”

  “You are not, and never were, our servant. I will cook tonight to prove that to you.”

  “Jo, I might love you but no thank you. I do the cooking in my kitchen. Now I’m going to get you some tea. You stay where you are and put your feet up on the stool. Doc White said you had to take things slower now.”

  “Anyone would think I was an old woman,” Jo grumbled.

  “No, they wouldn’t. Old people are sensible.” With that passing remark, Bridget disappeared. Jo smiled, she couldn’t help it. Bridget’s down to earth nature and her obvious love for the family always cheered her up.

  She picked up one of the newspapers Carrie had brought her back from town and began to read, frowning as she did so. The article said Allan Pinkerton had to escort the President elect, Abraham Lincoln, to Washington because he was worried about a protest from some Southern leaning groups that were unhappy when the President was inaugurated on March 4th.

  Jo closed her eyes remembering one of her last conversations with Rick. He had explained to Fiona Murphy, Tilly’s friend, how, while Lincoln was anti-slavery, he did not believe in equality. She wondered if the President had changed his mind. Some were hopeful he would, but Jo wasn’t sure. What she was certain about though was the fact the country stood on the brink of war. She didn’t know if Almanzo and Stephen would volunteer to go. There wasn’t, as yet, talk of conscription although her pa thought it would come. Maybe the boys would wait to go later. Almanzo was busy helping her, Stephen was helping his parents. Both were needed here.

  “Here’s your tea, Miss—I mean—Jo,” Bridget’s eyes twinkled. “It may take some time to get used to your new name. What are you reading about?”

  “President Lincoln and how they were worried someone would kill him before he became president.”

  “There is so much hate in this country right now. It’s disgusting. Why can’t people just get along?”

  “I don’t know. I’m worried Stephen and Almanzo will be called up to fight. I can’t bear to think of them going off to war.”

  “At least this far west, the war isn’t likely to come to our front door. I sure wouldn’t want to live in Richmond right now or in any place nearby. Imagine having a battle on your front lawn.”

  Jo shuddered, before saying. “Let’s talk about something nicer. What’s happening in town? Have you heard anything interesting?”

  “Tilly said Fiona and Blacky are closer than ever. Might even get married.”

  “That would be lovely wouldn’t it? Fiona is such a nice girl. And Blacky’s a gentleman. They’re a good match, although I don’t envy her dealing with his sons. Rick always said they were a handful.”

  “I heard they were a bit wild. Can’t imagine Blacky has much time to deal with them as he’s so busy working. Did his wife die long ago?” Bridget asked.

  “I have no idea. I never met her. In fact, I don’t know anything about Blacky’s personal life. But I do hope he and Fiona will be happy together.”

  Bridget laughed. “Look at us, we have them married already and I don’t know if he’s even asked her yet.” Bridget walked out of the room but stopped to remind Jo about Tilly’s gathering the next day. “We can ask Blacky what his intentions are then.”

  Jo frowned as Bridget closed the door behind her. Why had she agreed to go to Tilly’s party? Because she is as close to you as a real daughter-in-law and needs your support. Almanzo had asked Jo to help and she couldn’t say no. But oh how she wished Rick were by her side.

  She closed her eyes and thought about Sarah, Rick’s niece. They’d considered her and Carrie as their daughters. Where was Sarah now? Did she know about Rick? Much as she was angry
at Sarah for running away, especially with a man like Edwin Morgan, Jo wanted more than anything to know she was safe and happy. The world was becoming more dangerous by the minute. The talk of war had many people on tenterhooks and Sarah was out there in the middle of it somewhere. She wanted her to come home where Jo could see for herself that Sarah was happy, safe and sound. Even if she came back with Morgan in tow, she would accept her adopted daughter’s choice. Just please come home, she prayed.

  Chapter 13

  Tyrell’s Pit

  Sarah walked slowly down the street toward the laundry. She was late for work, but that was probably the least of her problems. Faulkner stood near the laundry. She tried to hurry past him, but he blocked her way.

  “Had an interesting chat with your husband Mrs. Morgan.” His sneering voice and the look in his eyes, made Sarah turn and walk down an alley between two properties. It was a mistake. He had her pinned against the wall of one house in seconds.

  “Don’t walk away from me, girl. You’re in no position to look down on anyone.”

  “Let me go. If you don’t I’ll scream.”

  He laughed. “Scream away, nobody will hear you and even if they do, they aren’t going to come to your rescue. Not when they see me. I own this town, Sarah, and everyone in it.”

  “You don’t own me,” Sarah protested, backing away from him.

  “I think you’re wrong. You have nobody else. You have a brat in your belly, your man has walked out on you. Worse, he sold you to me so you could work off his debts. That work starts today.”

  “He can’t sell me, I’m not a slave.”

  “Who says he can’t? I don’t see any law around here.”

  Sarah couldn’t think straight. She was too horrified, scared and angry. How dare he treat her like a...a what? A slave? Was that how slaves felt? She had never thought about it before, being too wrapped up in her own life. She shuddered. The anger that had been building up since Edwin had first shown up grew stronger. Despite the pain in her side, she was not going to become a soiled dove without a fight. She let herself go limp in Faulkner’s arms leading him into a false sense of security.