by Annie Boone
No one noticed how quiet she was, and he didn’t say anything at all on the way home. He never uttered a single word. Her cheeks flamed up as they arrived at the house and she climbed down before he dared to try and help her down. Neither of them wanted to touch each other now, even a glance was too much to bear.
Too upset for words, she stomped off. Even home brought her no respite now. They’d had a morning mist and she hadn’t put away the clothes on the line. Around the trail she went, annoyed even more that they might be damp. But fortunately, only a few things had been dampened again. She grabbed a basket and began tearing down anything that felt mostly dry.
“Let’s just act as though nothing has happened,” she scowled. “Let’s just ignore each other shall we? Go to church, pretend to everyone else that all is well in the Jessup home. What a—”
“I see you still talk to yourself.”
Gasping, she whirled around to find Lucas there, pushing his hat back on his head. Biting her lip, Susannah glanced around. How long had he been there, she wondered, and how much had he heard? The sun was setting behind her so she knew he couldn’t see the flaming heat on her cheeks, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
“I, well, yes. I do talk to myself. For company, mainly.” She managed to speak after her breath returned and then felt just a little bolder. “Since I didn’t think anyone was here with me. And since I have a great deal on my mind and not a soul to talk it through with. When did you arrive?”
He shrugged, and glanced at the baskets before her feet. Clearly, the man didn’t want to say anything else, and was expecting her to keep speaking. But it only made her more exhausted. Swallowing, she nodded and glanced towards the light in the house. Her shoulders slumped and she wondered what she had done wrong.
Oh right, she recalled despondently, she couldn’t have children. “I see,” she said finally, and then turned back to the clothesline, ready to ignore him. She pulled down three shirts before he said anything.
“Perhaps I will join you for supper.”
He seemed to wait for her to reply, but Susannah was too lost in her thoughts. Eventually, he headed inside and she returned to taking care of the laundry. The work, she hoped, would distract her enough from the trouble she had managed to pile onto herself.
Though the two of them had had a few squabbles before, this wasn’t like anything she had faced with Lucas before. Besides the overly polite and necessary words, they were still hardly speaking. It became an uneasy balance and she hated watching her every step. He still slept in the loft, however, and had yet to join her for a meal.
One Sunday, Susannah completely forgot the time—and the day, really—when she glanced at her husband wearing one of his suits, and realized she had forgotten to brush her hair that morning. It was time to be leaving to church, but she was so distracted that her hair was still as messy as a bird’s nest.
“I can wait,” he mumbled as she looked around frantically.
But Susannah’s shoulders slumped. “No, don’t bother. I… I’ll go next week. Tell Mrs. Higgins that I’m looking forward to testing her berry jam in a few weeks, would you? And… and I’ll be here when you return.” She offered a wane smile and started back to the house.
“Susannah,” Lucas started, but she waved a hand in the air and he didn’t bother continuing. He needed time, she reminded herself. He said he would keep his word but he needed time. So she would give it to him, as requested. All the time in the world would be his. Sighing, she listened to him head down the trail and made it up to the porch, suddenly feeling tired.
Every part of her body ached, a soreness that had been creeping in over the last couple of days. She hadn’t noticed much as she had been trying to keep busy. Sighing, Susannah sat down and leaned against the railing, looking out around her. She would rest for just a moment, and enjoy the view.
From here, the view was a pretty one with the valley before them, just past the trail with a large river weaving through it. During the winter, it froze over and he’d surprised her by bringing skates home to try. They both struggled to learn but it had been fun. She didn’t expect to continue the activity, though Lucas probably would.
At the thought of winter, she shivered. Sitting in the sun for a bit would do her good, she decided.
Her eyes closed, and the next thing she knew, something was pushing her about. Groaning, she wrapped her arms around herself to shield them from her, but then she heard Lucas. Had he returned early? Rubbing her eyes, she tried to collect her thoughts. How long had she been resting?
“What are you doing? I thought you were going to town? To church?” She stammered, her tongue feeling heavy.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas demanded. “Tell me, Susannah.”
But she didn’t care for his tone, and frowned at him. He started to touch her again, but suddenly she wanted to be anywhere but before him. Who was he to ignore her until suddenly it mattered to him? He couldn’t toy with people like that.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, and then cleared her throat. It wasn’t supposed to come out that sharp. “I’m fine,” Susannah said calmly, and shakily pulled herself to her feet. “I was just tired, that’s all.” She went inside, feeling his eyes on her.
* * *
The tired feeling clung to her bones over the following days, and she could feel herself slowing down. It confused Susannah, wondering why she was so exhausted. It made everything much harder to do, and all of her chores took twice as long. There wasn’t time enough in the day to accomplish everything.
She noticed Lucas staying home a little more, taking care of the harder tasks. And when he did talk to her, he spoke to her differently. Not the way he used to, and not even in that masked polite manner he’d taken to recently.
“I can make supper tonight.”
“I can do it,” she had forced herself to remain calm. “There’s no need for you to do anything to help.”
He was smiling, but it wasn’t real. Pretending, she knew, since she could still see the tension in his jaw. His lips tightened whenever he addressed her, and Susannah found herself endlessly frustrated with him the moment Lucas showed his face to her.
It was like he was reminding her how useless she was to him. “Don’t bother yourself with the cows,” he shook his head when she got up in the mornings. “I can feed the chickens, as well. Why don’t you have a glass of milk?”
“It’s our land, our animals,” she had rushed to dress as he did, trying to beat him. It took all of her strength, however, and she had to lean against the bed post to catch her breath. “I do this every morning, and I can do it today. If you still need time, then you can have it in here.”
He called out after her, but she practically sprinted to the barn. By Friday, however, it was taking all of her strength to fight him and his petty comments. The only reason she could find for him trying to take on more responsibilities, her responsibilities, was because he was preparing not to need her anymore.
If she didn’t have any chores to do, Susannah realized, there was no reason for her to be there. It made her heart ache at the thought and she wondered again how she’d managed to get in this mess.
Friday morning, on her rush to the barn, she tripped and found the ground rushing up to meet her in an unfriendly fashion. There wasn’t even time to shout before she tumbled, and all the fight went out of her. Susannah’s breath was knocked from her body and the world went dark.
Chapter Eleven
Rocky Ridge, Colorado; 1882
“Mrs. Jessup?”
She jumped, hands to her bosom as she turned and found Lydia there on the porch. The young girl looked at her in concern, and Susannah realized she must have been calling her for some time. It was just so easy to get lost in her thoughts sometimes.
“I’m sorry, dear. What were you saying?” She lifted her skirts and headed up the steps to the house.
Lydia bit her lip. “Well, we’re ready for you in the garden. But I think you had best tend t
o Jane first. She found her needlework but I’m afraid she poked herself and now she’s bleeding.”
“A needle stick? Is it a lot of blood?” Susannah stepped inside, leaving the door open for the girl to follow. It had always bothered her how some women tended to faint at the sight of blood. Here in the west, you didn’t have time to faint and hope someone would catch you while also taking care of the problem. “Ah, Jane,” she pulled out a handkerchief as they reached the sitting room.
Jane loved sitting by the windows with all the golden brightness the sun bestowed. Rocky Ridge was different than Chicago, where the weather was often cloudy and gray. On her lap rested a stitched pattern, nearly finished but halted now as she cradled her hand. “I forgot my thimble,” she mourned.
She had needed a thimble indeed. She’d managed to dig the needle in deep. Susannah shook her head in disbelief. Not only did Jane lack a dowry, but apparently she had been deemed too clumsy to be married off to anyone back home. Though she could cook anything, she lacked several other skills and had been here for a few weeks as Susannah worked to find her a suitor. Usually she waited until the girls already had someone in mind, but Jane had asked kindly and she had agreed.
“Your finger is completely covered in blood,” Mary stated in awe. “You’re going to ruin that dress, you know. And probably your needlework, too.”
That got Susannah’s attention. She gave the younger girl a stern look. “Fetch me a towel from the kitchen, Lydia, would you? Two of them, one damp and one dry. Immediately, please.” Lydia ran off, and Jane whimpered. Taking a seat beside her, Susannah got a closer look. “Goodness, it might have even hit the bone. Now Jane, I thought I told you to use a light touch on this. Not like when you’re kneading a bread loaf, but—”
“Yes, I know. That’s too hard handed for delicate needlework.” The girl nodded guiltily and looked away, clearly understanding the mistake she’d made. “I was so close to being finished, I thought I could go faster and, well, I got carried away. Can you please take it out?” The question came out as a whimper as the young woman struggled to keep her tears at bay.
After looking at the finger carefully, Susannah nodded and touched the needle. Jane jumped anxiously and gulped. “On three,” she told the girl, knowing it might be rather painful. “One, two—” And she yanked.
“Ouch!” Jane blinked hard. Then Lydia was there with the towels, and Susannah calmed them down as they cleaned up the mess. Once Jane was bandaged up, she was invited to take a chair and bring her needlework out to the garden.
“Can we plant roses?” Lydia asked as Mary brought out the shovel and hoe. They walked past her pots of blue columbines, Susannah’s favorite. Lucas always made sure she had enough of them. “I love the roses, especially the yellow ones. I hear there are some roses that bloom all year around, you know. Wouldn’t that be beautiful? Roses all the time would be perfect.”
Susannah chuckled and handed her a bonnet. “Put this on or the heat will get to you. And no roses right now. Once you can tell the weeds apart from the vegetables, then I will personally ensure you have rose seeds with you on your way out of here. But vegetables first. Your families will need to eat.”
“Vegetables first,” Lydia nodded and paused as they entered the gate. “Oh, it smells.”
No matter how many times the girls were surprised by the smell of the soil mixed with manure, it made Susannah laugh and she tugged the girls along.
“You’d be surprised at what wonders manure can do for the soil and for your vegetables.” She started in on her lesson, well-rehearsed by now. But even then, her mind wandered.
Chapter Twelve
Rocky Ridge, Colorado; 1876
Susannah had opened her eyes just as she was being lowered onto her bed. Heavy arms dropping to her side, she felt the world spinning but managed to recognize her husband’s face. “Lucas?” She asked in confusion. “What…”
He paused and looked at her, an expression of genuine concern across his face. “Susannah?” She tried to sit up, but he put a hand to her shoulder. “No. You took quite a spill out there, so just lie back and rest.”
“What spill? I fell?” She frowned, trying to make sense of this. She started to assess slowly. Her boots were on, and she was dressed. Why, it was still morning. What was she doing in bed? And why did her head hurt? It thudded as though someone were repeatedly smacking her with a plank. Groaning, she put a hand up to it and grimaced. “Did I milk the cows yet?”
Lucas scoffed. “Of course, you’re thinking about the cows at a time like this. But you shouldn’t. Don’t worry about the cows. They’re fine.”
Feeling ill, Susannah reluctantly laid back down and closed her eyes tightly shut. She had to be dreaming, she realized, and this was some strange nightmare she was experiencing. If she could just wake herself up, all would be well. Especially her head.
“A time like this? I’m fine.” But as she said those words, a cold chill clamped itself around her neck and she shivered hard, her muscles contracting painfully. “What, um, what has happened?” She stammered again as a blanket was put over her and tucked in around her. “No, I’m—no, don’t do that. No, it’s hot.”
But Lucas ignored her by pushing her hands back down and beneath the covers. “You have a fever, and you fell hard out by the barn,” he explained finally, his voice fading in and out. “You’re sick, Susannah.”
“Nonsense,” she shook her head so hard that the cloth across her damp forehead fell off. Her eyes closed and someone put it back. “I’m just fine.”
He said something more, but Susannah didn’t hear it as the blackness dragged her down. Over the next few days, she tossed and turned beneath the covers. Her body ached, and she couldn’t even drink broth. On the occasions that she woke up and was conscious, Lucas was often there with a fresh cloth and a cup of water.
A week later, she finally gathered the courage to sit up, and found herself alone. It was late evening, she surmised, and there was a piece of bread on the nightstand beside her. Though her stomach grumbled, Susannah lacked an appetite and looked around to get her bearings.
Taking a deep breath, she managed to lean across Lucas’s side to his own nightstand, and picked up the book that had been lying there. Keats, she realized, and smiled softly. She hadn’t read his poetry and had wondered where this book had gone. She’d brought it with her when she’d come to Colorado. Fortunately she had a lantern already burning there beside her, and she opened the book.
“Ah, she’s up.” It was only the second poem, and her eyelids were already drooping. Blinking hard, Susannah looked up to see Lucas there, smiling grimly. He took a couple of footsteps further into the room. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Me?” She echoed faintly.
He ignored it, grabbing the chair from the corner and sat down beside the bed. Lucas took a deep breath, and then noticed the plate with the bread on it. “Aren’t you hungry?” He picked it up and set it on her lap. She stared at it dumbly, gripping the book with all her strength. There wasn’t much of it, after all, and if Susannah loosened even one finger on the book she was certain it would fall and upset the plate.
“Darling, you haven’t kept anything down in days,” Lucas’s voice grew worried and she turned to him sharply. “Please try to eat. Just a bite, please.”
It was a quick turn and she winced as her head began to ache. “You haven’t called me that in a while,” Susannah managed, forced to put the book down and rub her temples. “And no, I’m not hungry.”
She watched him hesitate, glancing at the plate and then at the book. “Susannah, you need to eat. If you’re going to get better, you need to eat and get your strength up. At most, you’ve had a few sips of broth over the last couple of days, and… I don’t think you were even eating well before this.”
Scoffing, she turned away. “I’m just fine.”
“No,” Lucas’s tone forced her to glance back at him. He grabbed one of her hands, and the other rested on her calf
that was buried beneath all of their blankets. There were, she had just counted, at least five on top of her. It made her feel like she was under a pile of rocks. But Lucas wasn’t done. “You are not fine. What do you think you’re doing to yourself?”
Exasperated, Susannah huffed. “I’m not starving myself, Lucas, I’m just not hungry. And I’ve been eating…” she trailed off, trying to consider the several instances of late that would prove him wrong. But as she thought about this, she found merit to his words.
Stunned, she leaned against the wall and frowned. As she went through the last several days before her fall, a stark realization crept up. He was right, Susannah realized, and wondered how she had missed this. It was so obvious. Picking at her meals had left her tired and her body too exhausted to function normally. It had made her tired and sore and slow, which resulted in the fall.
She was stumped. How could she have been so irresponsible? Biting her tongue, she looked away from Lucas who was still giving her a stern look. As though he hadn’t played a single part in this, as though he hadn’t done anything wrong. “It’s not like you care,” she scowled finally. “I’ll just bet you would have liked it if I just disappeared.”
The words came out before she could help it, but she crossed her arms and slumped down, hoping he would go away. Lucas stood up sharply and hovered over the bed the moment she finished, his gaze indiscernible. “Don’t you say that,” he managed in a low voice. “Don’t you dare.”
Now it was too tempting. She felt an itch under her skin and she scratched it. “Why not?” She shot back. Hastily climbing out of their bed, she threw her hands up and tried to push him away. “Then you’d be able to marry someone else—anyone else. Then you can have all the babies you want. You and—” but it was too much, and she felt herself falling even as her breath gave out on her.
