Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  On one particularly horrible day, three oxen dropped just after we had started again following the midday meal. This seemed like the breaking point for so many of us. Finally, members of the train started crying out, demanding rest. It took nearly all of the men fighting against him for the leader of the train to finally agree that we should stop for the rest of the day and take the next day, a Sunday, off. We hadn't been taking Sundays off up until then, only reading passages at midday and singing a few hymns at night. It felt nice to know that we would finally get a true day of rest.

  That night some of the younger wives decided to take their turn at preparing dinner for everyone. They had been walking beside the wagons as we traveled that morning and found several patches of vegetables that had grown from the seeds that travelers from previous years had dropped along the way. It would be a delightful treat to get to enjoy fresh vegetables rather than the same rice, beans, and cornmeal cakes we always ate.

  I sat on the front bench of the wagon mending a blanket by the light of the nearby fire and watching the children play when I noticed that several had wandered over to the women cooking and were snatching little bits of the vegetables from the cuttings. They were so sweet that no one minded. Then I watched two of the grown men, the husbands of those young women, come up and sneak bites for themselves.

  An hour later, just before the stew should have been ready, I heard screaming.

  "What's going on?" Eleanor asked, rushing toward me from where she had been resting in her wagon.

  "I don't know," I told her.

  Together we ran toward the screaming and saw one of the young women cradling a small child in her arms. His tiny body was convulsing and white foam poured from his mouth.

  "What's happened?" I asked one of the men from the crowd around them.

  "Hemlock," he told me in a gravelly, solemn voice that made that single word the most ominous sound I had ever heard.

  "Hemlock?" I asked.

  I looked over at Eleanor, who had her hand pressed over her mouth and a tear trickling down her cheek.

  "Poison," she whispered, "Hemlock is a wild plant that is extremely poisonous. Even a few small bites can kill a man."

  My breath caught in my throat and I felt my stomach lurch. I knew then that that small child was dead in his mother's arms. Suddenly, all of the pain and heartache about Gregory washed back over me. I turned away from the crying, screaming group and ran.

  I ran toward the wagon and then past it, further into the darkness, deeper into the tall grass until it came up to my shoulders and let me hide. I ran until my legs wouldn’t carry me any further and suddenly all I knew was blackness.

  ****

  I felt my eyes flutter in response to a drip of cold water running down my face. I tried to reach up to wipe it away, but my body felt so heavy and weak that I wasn't able to move. I tried to speak, but all I could manage to push past my lips was a low moan.

  "Miss Rogers?"

  The unfamiliar voice came to me like it was coming through water and for a moment I thought that I had only imagined it. When it spoke again, saying my name with a bit more insistence, I concentrated on forcing my eyes open. The room seemed so bright that it hurt my eyes and I quickly closed them again.

  "No, no. Do not close your eyes. Look at me again."

  I made my eyes open again, and after a few seconds of letting my vision acclimate, I was able to focus on the man's face looking down at me. I didn't recognize him and I felt fear ripple through me. He reached down to take the wet cloth off of my forehead and I cringed, pulling away from him.

  "It's alright, Miss Rogers," he said soothingly, "You are safe. Can you speak?" I shook my head. "Can you try?"

  I tried to open my mouth but as soon as my lips parted I winced with the pain of dry skin cracking. I felt confused and frightened. The last thing I remembered was running through the tall grass away from the horrible scene in the camp, but now I was inside a building, lying on a bed, and I felt like I hadn't moved in weeks.

  As if sensing my pain, the man showed me a cup of water and I nodded. He helped me sit up and I drank eagerly, not realizing how thirsty I was until the water touched my throat. When I finished and he helped me rest back against the pillows, the man handed me a small glass pot.

  "For your lips," he said, "They look like they hurt."

  I nodded and gratefully rubbed some of the thick ointment in the pot onto my lips. It soothed the sharp pain and I was finally able to rub my lips together and feel like I could move my mouth again. I gave a slight smile as my way of thanks and I felt exhaustion take over me. My eyes drifted closed again and almost immediately I fell back to sleep.

  ****

  I drifted in and out this way for three days, each time feeling slightly stronger when I woke up. The man offered me small bits of broth and porridge along with water when I woke, but I still hadn't been able to speak to him. Finally, when my eyes opened on the fourth morning and I found that I was alone in the strange room, I decided to test my voice again.

  "Hello?" I called out into the quiet of the building.

  Immediately I heard the loud sound of boots against the wooden floor and the man ran from another room into that one and came to the side of the bed.

  "Miss Rogers!" he said, sounding thrilled that I had finally been able to speak.

  "Hello," I said again, unsure of what else I was supposed to say.

  "How are you feeling?"

  I thought about the question, evaluating how I should answer, and decided to give the most honest response that I could.

  "Confused."

  The man laughed softly and I noticed how handsome he was. His eyes were a pale blue like the sky and his face looked at once strong and dignified from a bold bone structure, and youthful from smooth, lineless skin.

  "What do you last remember?" he asked, reaching behind me to help me sit up so that I leaned against pillows propped against the headboard.

  "I remember the night that the wagon train stopped because the oxen died and the little boy ate hemlock. I ran away from them as fast as I could, and I suppose I must have passed out in the grass."

  The man nodded.

  "That is the last thing that you remember?"

  I thought back again, but I couldn't come up with anything else after the grass around the camp become nothing but blackness.

  "Yes."

  "That was a month ago."

  I felt panic shoot through me. I struggled to sit up further, but my body was too weak to hold myself up.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice rising even though it hurt pushing through my throat.

  "You are in Bannack, Montana. I am Dr. Moore. You were brought to my clinic after you fell ill on the trail."

  "But I wasn't sick," I protested.

  Dr. Moore nodded at me again and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  "I understand this is a lot for you to take in right now. The fever seems to have taken some of your memory, but when you arrived here, you had only been sick for a couple of weeks. Several people died along the way. As gravely ill as you were, it is nothing short of a miracle that you survived."

  Suddenly a sick feeling rolled through my stomach that had nothing to do with the fever I had evidently been suffering.

  "Eleanor!" I cried out, "Eleanor! Harry!"

  Dr. Moore shook his head and made a soft sound to quiet me.

  "Please, Miss Rogers, I need you to calm down. It is not good for you to get so excited so early in your recovery. Your sister and brother are alive. Your sister married Anthony Smith shortly after the train arrived here."

  "Where are they?"

  It saddened me to know that I had missed my sister getting married, but at that moment all I truly cared about was knowing that they were safe and seeing them.

  "Your brother was very ill as well when you arrived. My clinic was full and he needed care urgently. I did what I could for him in the hotel for two days and then they made the decision to bring h
im to the next town where there is a larger and more equipped clinic. That is why they married so hastily while you were still sleeping."

  I let out a long breath, allowing the relief to wash over me and ease the tension in my muscles.

  "Thank you," I said, "for everything."

  "Of course," Dr. Moore said with a soft smile, "I am so happy to see you awake. Your color is much better. Are you feeling hungry?"

  I hadn't thought about it before, but I was suddenly ravenous.

  "Yes, very."

  He smiled.

  "I'll go get you something to eat. I will be right back."

  He walked out of the room and while he was gone, I took the chance to look around, trying to orient myself with my surroundings. The room was nicer than I would have imagined a frontier clinic, and I was very thankful for the comforts that Dr. Moore had provided for me. On a small table positioned by the bed I noticed a thick book, a blue ribbon denoting the place where the reader had stopped.

  I reached for the book and had just pulled it into my hands when Dr. Moore came back into the room. His lips turned up slightly when he noticed the book in my hands.

  "I have been reading that to you since a few days after you arrived," he told me.

  "You have?" I asked, surprised that a doctor in a frontier town would take the time to do something so tender and caring.

  "I know it sounds silly. I just thought that hearing someone's voice might help you get well sooner."

  "I don't think that sounds silly," I told him, resting the book back on the table so that I could accept the tray of food that he had brought me, "I think it sounds sweet."

  "It is most certainly not scientific."

  "Not everything has to be." I took a sip of rich, dark broth and gestured around me, "This room, for example, looks nothing like a stark scientifically-approved medical clinic."

  He smiled at my tease and gave a shrug.

  "Well, to be honest, this is not the usual treatment area of the clinic."

  "It isn't?"

  "This is my quarters." I was startled, but he held up a hand to calm me before I said anything, "I have taken up residence in one of the treatment areas. You were in the treatment area for the first week that you were here, but I soon realized that many of the people who were coming to the clinic weren't coming because they had twisted their ankles or gotten a cut. They were coming to try to catch a glimpse at you. I didn't like that, so I moved you in here where you could have more privacy and be more comfortable."

  I smiled and lowered my eyes, taking another sip of the broth in hopes that it would conceal the blush creeping across my cheeks.

  ****

  September 1863

  Dear Diary,

  I am so happy to be writing again. It seemed that I would never regain the strength to hold my pencil steady for long enough to actually form the words. I have been in the clinic for three weeks now and I am feeling stronger each day. Joseph says that I am a miracle.

  How strange it seems to write "Joseph" when I am speaking of my doctor. We have spent so much time together, however, that it is only natural we would begin to refer to each other by our first names. I am slightly ashamed to admit that I got a little flutter in my heart the first time he said my name.

  He is nothing like I would have expected a man in the Frontier. I thought the men, especially those who had been in the towns for several years, would all be tough, gruff, and coarse. Joseph, however, is kind and nurturing and funny. We have been reading a wonderful book together. He had been reading it to me while I slept through my illness, so I asked him to start again and now we trade reading each other chapters in the evenings. It is such a lovely way to pass the time and I have felt myself getting so comfortable with him. Perhaps more comfortable than I should.

  The Lord has truly blessed his hands. He was able to save me from an illness that I learned killed ten people from the wagon train including the people who were ill when we arrived in Bannack. I am starting to feel almost like myself again, and I know that it is only because of his dedication and skill.

  I finally received a letter from Eleanor today. She says that Harry is doing much better, though he is still not able to move his legs well and his vision seems to be blurry. The doctor wants to keep him just a little while longer to try to improve his condition before he comes back to Bannack. That will truly be a glorious day when we are all back together.

  Louisa

  ****

  "I demand to see her now."

  An angry voice from the front of the clinic made me jump and I sat up sharply so that I could lean forward and look out of the door to the bedroom. I couldn't see anything, but the yelling continued.

  "She is my future wife and you have no right to stand in my way. Tell me where she is now."

  My stomach sank when I heard those words. It was Mr. Akron, the man who I had come here with the intention of marrying. I had not thought of him for a single moment since awaking in the clinic, and now suddenly he was there and demanding to see me.

  I heard boot steps pounding across the floor toward the room and I instinctively pulled the blankets up higher as if they would protect me. A slim, sandy-haired man came into the room and gazed down at me. Joseph followed closely, his face registering a hint of sadness.

  "Louisa," Mr. Akron said, smiling at me, "I am so glad to finally be here with you. I am so sorry that I was away when you arrived. I did not expect the journey to be so brief and I had to be away on business. I returned as soon as I could after hearing of your illness."

  "It is quite alright," I said, unsure of my words and feeling slightly uncomfortable that he had suddenly decided to call me by my first name, "I am feeling much better."

  Mr. Akron took a step closer and I glanced over his shoulder toward Joseph, trying to decipher what he was feeling as he watched the exchange from a distance.

  "That is wonderful to hear." He gave a sigh like he had come to a decision and expected that everyone just needed some guidance to go along with him, "Well, now that I am here you do not need to stay here any longer."

  At that, Joseph stepped forward.

  "With all due respect, sir, Miss Rogers is not in good enough health to leave the clinic yet."

  I hated hearing Joseph refer to me by my formal title again, but I could see the darkness roll over Mr. Akron's eyes and I realized that there was far more conflict brewing than what either of them chose to call me.

  "Louisa came to marry me, Doctor. I know what is best for her, and that is certainly not something so inappropriate as her sleeping in your personal quarters." He turned to me, "I can afford the very best in private care. I will bring you to my home and a team will care for you there."

  "Dr. Moore has been treating me since I arrived here in Bannack. I really would feel more comfortable remaining under his care for the remainder of my recovery," I said, feeling slightly nervous about refusing Mr. Akron's offer, but also knowing that the thought of leaving the clinic with him and living in his home did not feel right.

  Mr. Akron's smile faltered slightly, but he seemed to force his face to seem cheerful.

  "I understand. I would not want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I will let you get your rest now, and I will be back tomorrow so that we can discuss it further."

  He patted my hand and started out of the room, pausing only long enough to speak under his breath to Joseph. Though he thought I couldn't hear him, I understood each word distinctly as he demanded that Joseph take me out of the room and put me back into the examination area of the clinic.

  ****

  October 1863

  Dear Diary,

  What am I going to do, Diary? I have never felt so conflicted in all my life. I feel like I am experiencing every emotion that there is to experience all at the same time. It is all so overwhelming, and I have nowhere to turn.

  It has been one week since Mr. Akron first arrived at the clinic. Though he has told me that I may call him Preston, I can only t
hink of him as Mr. Akron. He is a kind man, just as I thought he would be from his letters, and has been very attentive. He comes to the clinic to visit me every afternoon and likes to bring me little gifts to brighten up my space.

  Joseph did as Mr. Akron asked and moved me out of the comfort of his quarters where I had been and put me back into one of the regular examination rooms in the front of the clinic. I have tried to speak to him about my situation with Mr. Akron, but he will not stay in the room with me long enough for me to explain it to him. We no longer read together in the evenings.

  I know that I started this journey with the intention of escaping the pain of losing Gregory and that I gave my commitment to Mr. Akron, but I am no longer sure of my choice. Though I still carry Gregory in my heart and know that I will for the rest of my life, I am beginning to feel alive again, and I know that that is thanks to Joseph.

  What am I to do, Diary? What decision can I make that will be the right one? Do I follow the commitment that I made and marry Mr. Akron, knowing that I will fulfill the role that I promised with grace, and simply hope that one day I will learn to love him? Or do I follow my heart and tell Joseph how I have been feeling about him?

  I do not even know if Joseph feels the same way about me. He has been so distant since Mr. Akron first appeared and I can see the hurt in his eyes, but that may be only because he feels that I lied to him by not telling him about Mr. Akron, not because he feels anything beyond the care of a doctor for his patient.