Dreams and Nightmares

by Shirley A. Roe

  “Austin, old boy good to see you. When pray tell did you purchase that gun?” Jeremy, smiling and still dazed, staggered to his feet, attempting to walk. Austin quickly put his arm around Jeremy's shoulders, brushed the dirt from his friend's clothes and returned the wide grin. The two well dressed, aristocratic English gentlemen had experienced their first down and dirty, western skirmish unscathed and returned to the hotel.

  “Well, I guess I'm beholden to you forever now that you have saved my life, Austin.” Back in their room, Jeremy had cleaned the gash on his face and was inspecting the bruises that were beginning to appear on his arms and chest. The broken watch tick-tocked on the dresser, a reminder of just how close he had come. He was very grateful that Austin had arrived when he did. “I do believe we should purchase different attire in order to blend in. We stand out like Peacocks in a hen house in these suits. Now, where did you get that gun?”

  “I picked it up in Boston. I decided that since we may be traveling into unchartered territory, we may need one and now I'm glad that I put it in my waistcoat before I went to look for you.” Austin was still reeling from the experience and although he had appeared calm and in control during the altercation, he had in fact been petrified. “Luckily I've done some shooting and I do know how to use the gun if necessary. Why, just the sight of it was enough today. Now let me tell you why I was searching for you.” Putting on a false bravado so that his friend did not know how frightened he was, he told Jeremy of the portrait that hung in the dining room. The men talked into the night and decided on the best plan of action.

  “So that is what our Martha looks like. I see why you are enamored Wells. She looks a little like Miss Hunter.” Jeremy was taking in every detail of Lillian McGuire as they drank their tea the next morning. Martha must be quite the beauty indeed; no wonder Jebediah wanted her for his wife and Austin was so stricken with her. Well, where was Martha McGuire now? He stared, hypnotized by the portrait.

  Austin hardly noticed the hot tea and lemon as he rehashed the events of the preceding day. His fingers stroked his mustache and he stared blankly, deep in thought. He'd actually saved Jeremy's life and now they were about to travel further into the interior of a land that was filled with men like the two he had confronted. Was he up to this adventure? The attack on Jeremy had frightened him. Austin was wrestling with self-doubt and fear of the unknown as the undeterred Jeremy was being drawn deep into the sky blue eyes of Lillian and Martha McGuire.

  Chapter Eight- Winter sets in

  Snow blew across the land like a wave in the ocean. Vision was limited to a few feet and the temperatures were dropping fast. The small sod house, buried on three sides with snow with only a narrow dugout path existing between the cabin and the outbuildings, disappeared in the landscape. The inside consisted of one room with two sets of bunks and one single cot, where Martha slept. An iron wood stove sat in one corner behind a small table and chairs. Coats and clothing hung from hooks on the walls and stacked wooden crates held most of their possessions. The entire building was smaller than Martha's bedchamber at Graystone.

  Martha huddled under her buffalo skin trying to keep from shivering. Her feet felt like ice inside her woolen stockings, her breath settling like fog around her face in spite of the flames in the wood stove. She had never experienced such cold and was sure she would never survive six months of this. Darkness filled the room except for the glimmer of orange light escaping through the vents in the door of the stove. In the dim orange light, she could see the occupants of the other four cots asleep under layers of blankets. Isaac slept in the bunk above Jebediah, the two younger boys in the other bunk bed. Abraham's voice broke the silence. He was talking in his sleep. Martha listened for any signs of alarm but had no desire to leave her bed in the chill of the night. Abraham was indeed the most handsome of the three boys, with his blond hair, large blue eyes and round face. A kind-hearted boy, who loved animals, he could always be found near the goats, cattle or chickens.

  “He's buried, hurry he's buried,” mumbled Abraham. Martha wrapped the buffalo robe around her shivering body and reluctantly left her bed, rushing to the sleeping child's side. Gently, she shook him until he awoke. Abraham slept in the bottom bunk with Ezekiel overhead. She ducked her head as she sat beside the small boy on the narrow cot.

  “It's just a dream Abraham. You're fine and no one is buried,” Martha whispered as she looked into the angelic face of Jebediah's second son. She turned her head to be sure Jebediah was not awake.

  “Martha, John is buried in the snow. He can't breathe, hurry we have to save him.” Martha knew he referred to the Tucker boy, John who was Abraham's only friend and lived in the next homestead. The two boys spent a great deal of time together with the cattle and tending to the animals on both farms. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He seemed almost delirious.

  “Abraham, it's only a dream. Now back to sleep before you wake your father.” Due to Jebediah's harsh disciplinarian nature, Martha constantly tried to keep the boys from disturbing him. “Now go back to sleep, I'll stay with you.” Martha settled herself on the side of the narrow cot and brushed the light blond hair from his face. She arranged the buffalo skin over them both.

  “It's real Martha, but no one ever believes me when I tell them these things. No one ever believes me.” Abraham slowly drifted off to sleep. Martha returned to her cot but the dream disturbed her and it was hours before she fell asleep.

  The dim morning light filtered into the cabin; a loud pounding was heard just as the family was rising. Jebediah opened the door and found John Tucker's father covered in snow and looking panic stricken.

  “Jebediah, come quickly, my boy was out checking on the animals and the snow fell off the roof of the shed burying him; by the time we found him he was dead. Oh God, oh god. He needs the last rites Jebediah, we need you to come right away.” Tucker was distraught, wringing his hat in his hands as the never- ending snow settled on his heavy coat. Jebediah quickly tucked his shirt into his trousers, raising his suspenders over his shoulders. He grabbed his bible, coat and hat and followed Tucker out into the blizzard like conditions. Icy air permeated the small abode and snow covered the doorway making it hard for Martha to slam the door shut.

  Abraham, still in his bunk, stared at Martha with wide, frightened, tear filled eyes. “I told you Martha, I told you,” he mouthed without a sound.

  Abraham's premonition frightened Martha. She had heard of people with second sight but had never met one. Martha also knew that Jebediah was not going to be happy knowing one of his children was gifted with it. She went to Abraham and took the frightened seven-year old in her arms. She whispered as she pulled him to her.

  “I think it is best we keep this between us Abraham. I don't want you to discuss this with anyone. I'm sorry I didn't believe you last night but I will in future.” Abraham moved into her arms like the tiny frightened boy he was. “Please, do not say anything to anyone about your dream. I'm sorry about your dear friend John.” Martha sat rocking the now weeping, child and trying to absorb what had happened. The other two bunks creaked as the boys rolled over and Martha knew that Isaac was never going to keep silent about this conversation.

  Early the next morning, Jebediah dragged Abraham into the shed and slammed the door behind him. A terrified Martha followed them treading through the deep snow, shouting at Jebediah to leave the boy alone. It took all of her courage to open that door but she knew she had to intervene. It was one thing for Jebediah to beat her, but Abraham was a tiny boy. Martha took a deep breath, summoned all of her strength and yanked the door open. The sight that greeted her made her cringe. Jebediah drew the strap back and administered another heavy blow to the boy's back. The horrified Abraham crumbled under the blow.

  “Jebediah, stop, you'll kill the boy.” Martha screamed at her husband and ran to Abraham's side crouching over the whimpering boy. The cold wind swirled in the shed from the open door. Abraham's fearful face turned toward her with pleading in
his eyes.

  “Move woman or you will take the blows for him. This is none of your concern. The demon sight must be beaten out of him before anyone finds out about this. Now out of the way.” Jebediah raised the strap once again.

  “Isaac told you didn't he. He is the devil himself that one. Abraham just had a dream, please Jebediah leave him be. I beg you. He is bleeding.” Martha reached for Abraham.

  The strap fell across Martha's extended arm stinging her flesh through her heavy coat. The smart of the strap was intense. Another blow and this time she raised her arm to defend herself. The strap caught her wrist making a snapping sound. A sharp pain shooting up her arm confirmed her suspicions that her wrist had been broken. She recoiled instantly and again the strap struck Abraham's back. The boy screamed.

  “Isaac did what was right. We'll have no secrets in this house and no son of mine will do the devil's bidding.” Jebediah showed no concern at having broken Martha's wrist. Once again the strap fell. “Now the two of you can stay here and pray to the Lord for forgiveness.” Crimson with anger, Jebediah turned and left the shed, locking it behind him. The shed grew deathly silent. She stared after him- hate consuming her soul.

  In the hours that followed, Martha and Abraham huddled together as the light grew dim. Martha searched the shed for cobwebs and packing them tightly to the wounds on Abraham's back, managed to stop the bleeding. She wiped the blood from the large welts and wrapped him in his overcoat in an attempt to keep him warm. The tracks of her tears were coated with grain dust mixed with dirt from the shed floor. Her hair fell loose from the tight bun on the back of her head. She pushed the hair from her face. Her wrist was throbbing. A most grateful Abraham tried to reset it for her. The pain was excruciating but it felt a little better after he pulled it back in place. Unselfishly, forgetting his own pain, he made a splint out of some old rags and pieces of wood to hold it firm. He tore a strip from her petticoat for a sling, tying it behind her neck to cradle her arm. He looked at her with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages as he tended her wrist. There was something mystical about Abraham. She was amazed at how much this seven year old knew about joints and breaks but he had tended to the animals and learned from the men in the fields. She was thankful for his skill however inexperienced and primitive. Finally beginning to know this child, she was finding that, like Ezekiel, he was loving and gentle and needed her for comfort and protection. She reached up with her good arm and pulled down a large fur pelt that had been hung to dry in the shed. Their survival depended on staying warm. The walls of the shed had many narrow cracks between the boards where the faintest light filtered in. Tiny piles of snow appeared at the bottom of each space in the boards, stacked like tiny anthills by the increasing wind. Abraham piled the crates in the center of the shed, making a windbreak. Hours passed and the two were growing hungry. She found some wilted carrots and radishes that had been stored there for the animals, which the two prisoners munched on greedily. Finally, total darkness enveloped them. There was no telling how long Jebediah would leave them here. A rat ran across the floor in front of them. The scratching sound as it clawed at the crates constantly reminded them that they were not alone. Martha screamed when she felt something on her leg. It turned out to be Abraham's foot but the terror was real nonetheless. The beaten and dejected pair huddled together shivering under the thick, foul smelling fur as the blackness of the night, like the blackness of Jebediah's heart, seeped forever into their memories.

  Several days later, Martha was hanging the wet laundry inside the cabin to dry. Her wrist throbbed and her shoulder was aching but the chores had to be done and there was no time for self- pity. It was impossible to dry laundry outside and she hoped that the heat from the iron wood stove would be sufficient. She thought of Abraham who was tending to the animals alone, now that John was dead. The 36-hour ordeal in the shed had ended late the preceding day but not before she and Abraham had bonded as only terror and pain can bind two souls.

  Isaac approached her. Martha was growing more and more nervous of Isaac. She shuttered when she saw the evil look in his eyes whenever he looked at her. Isaac resembled his father both physically and emotionally, dark in color and countenance. She continued her task waiting nervously for him to speak. Rubbing her arm, still encased in the sling she draped another shirt over the makeshift clothesline.

  “Don't think you can win the boys over to your side. I'll be watching you and Father will know everything that goes on in this house. You are only here to clean and cook and nothing more. I'm glad Father locked you both in the shed over night. I hope you were frightened and cold. It is just unfortunate that you survived.” Isaac sneered at Martha and she felt a shiver of fear go down her back. Yes Isaac was definitely Jebediah's son and both of them filled her with apprehension. Isaac picked up his rifle, gave Martha one last look and left the cabin.

  Ezekiel stayed close to Martha. He had not spoken of the banishment to the shed. The young boy helped her with the chores, waiting anxiously for her to read the dogeared and worn books. Ezekiel could hear the same story over and over and never tire of Martha's voice. “Martha, I heard Mrs. Mueller tell Father that you made the best pies in the west. She even said that she wanted you to supply the General Store with pies. You should be very proud.” He smiled his angelic smile that reached right to her heart. She was not surprised that Jebediah had not mentioned this conversation to her. Even the news that Mrs. Mueller thought her pies were the best in the west, did nothing for her ego. It was as if she was an empty shell, her ego and her old self, lost somewhere between England and Wyoming. Ezekiel approached her, placing his arms around her waist and hugging her. “I like your pies, too Martha.” This boy was the only small joy in her life. She reached down hugging him with her good arm. She had to be very careful when she acted out of love for Ezekiel. Only if they were alone would she respond to him. Sometimes she saw the confusion on his young face and it broke her heart. One night he crawled into her cot with her, but she insisted he go back to his own bed for fear Jebediah would beat them both. Life was very trying for them all in this tiny sod house, snow covered and isolated. Winter was very long indeed.

  Jebediah visited all of the homesteaders and was carefully gauging their progress. When one or the other was almost down to his last few coins, Jebediah would generously give them a small hand out. Naturally, he was very popular with the homesteaders and all thought him to be a fine, trustworthy gentleman. He was fast becoming the community pastor and was called upon for funerals, weddings and baptisms. Of course, this was all part of Jebediah's plan and planting the seeds of trust was necessary to fulfill his desire to own all of this land within a year or two. He took his new pastoral duties one step further and began holding services in one of the larger outbuildings on Sundays and many of the homesteaders traveled through mounds of snow and icy cold to attend.

  He sat bundled in furs in his buckboard. Making his way back to the homestead, Jebediah spent his time alone, thinking. He knew that his Mama would be proud of all he had accomplished. His father may have given all of their land to Jeremy, but Jedediah had outsmarted them. He would be the successful landowner now, just like he and Mama planned. It was pure genius starting the rumor that there was coal on the property back in England. He had no idea whether there was or not and it didn't matter to his plans. The gullible developers had believed the rumors and almost begged him to take their money. Now half way around the world, these gullible sheep were walking blindly into his trap. Mama would be proud. Martha was becoming a burden but Isaac would keep a close eye on her and he still needed her to take care of the house and the two younger boys. He felt that she was making them soft, but things would change once she was gone for good. That would be some time though since his plan was going better than he had expected and he still needed her to maintain his façade.

  Power was physically arousing to Jebediah. He was seriously considering going to the fort to satisfy his sexual need for a woman but decided that it was
a long trip. He saw no sense since he had a wife at home. Jebediah felt no sexual desire for Martha or any other woman; he simply had to satisfy his physical needs. There was only one woman that Jebediah Whittaker loved and that was his mother. He knew that he was the only one his Mama loved too because she told him often. Even after they sent her to that horrible place, he would go to her and she would always say she loved her Jebediah. Father and Jeremy would pay for taking Mama away from him; yes, they would pay. Jebediah closed his eyes and imagined the sound of his mother's soft lullaby in his ears as snow began to fall.

  That night when the boys were asleep, Jebediah went to Martha's cot and shook her awake. Startled by the dark silhouette standing over her, she gasped and pulled the blankets to her face. Oh Lord, no not again. Jebediah forcefully threw back the blankets, grasped the bottom of her gown tearing it as he forced it up and proceeded to lie on top of her. Martha knowing better than to struggle; clenched her jaw, closed her eyes and allowed him to have his way. Her body rigid, her arms pinned to her sides she endured his weight. She could feel his foul, hot breath on her face. His rough and animal like rutting reminded her of the buffalo that she had seen in the fields, filled only with their need to mate. Tears filled her eyes but she refused to cry out. She would not give him the satisfaction. I hate you, how I hate you. I wish you were dead. She filled her head with thoughts of hatred in an effort to block out what was happening to her. When he was finished he returned to his own cot without a word.