Tame the Wild Wind

by Rosanne Bittner

  She draped the shirt over the line, then made her way back through the maze of clothes and took a moment to study her hands, her swollen red knuckles. Tears streamed quietly down her cheeks as she wrestled with guilt, disappointment, despair, anger. She would get old quickly if she had to do this much longer.

  She and Johnny shared a room at this small, cheap boardinghouse outside Chicago, the only place left they could afford after Johnny had spent all his money, most of it at the poker tables in a tavern not far away. If she had not taken this laundress job for the boardinghouse, they would not even be able to stay there. Actually, between this job and taking in mending, as well as helping cook at a nearby restaurant, she had been able to save a little money. She kept it hidden for fear Johnny would gamble it away. All he talked about was heading west “come spring,” sure he would win big at poker and have plenty of money for traveling.

  They would damn well go west and get out of this place, even if she had to earn all the money to do it herself! Maybe once she got Johnny away from that saloon and out someplace where he had little choice but to take responsibility for their marriage and their future, things would be better. Things had to get better.

  She leaned down and dipped another shirt into the hot water, ignoring the pain in her knuckles as she scrubbed vigorously, more out of anger and frustration than to clean the shirt. From their very wedding night Johnny had begun to show his true colors. They had married as soon as they had reached Chicago, and the wedding night was far from what Faith had expected. An eager Johnny Sommers had given her little time to prepare herself for what she considered a sacred, special union. He had surprised her with his forcefulness, telling her not to worry. It only hurts a little at first. You’ll like it, sweetheart. All the while he spoke he was practically tearing off her clothes, and because they were in a hotel with rooms on both sides of theirs, Faith had kept silent, not wanting to embarrass either of them.

  She still had not quite gotten over that night, the realization that Johnny simply wanted to get inside her, with seemingly little respect for her feelings. He’d taken his pleasure in her several times over that night, with no gentleness whatsoever. She had been ready to forgive him for it, but for the first week he invaded her body every night and sometimes during the day, expecting her to just “lay back and enjoy it, honey.” He made her feel like a prostitute.

  At first they were able to take a room at a more pleasant rooming house, but Johnny soon found a saloon where gambling went on in a back room. He began going there nearly every night with big dreams of quick money, but he lost more often than he won, until they could no longer afford the nice room they had rented.

  Now they were here, on the west side of town, in a depressing, unpainted excuse of a boardinghouse called Fran’s. It was run by Fran Babcock, a divorced woman who preferred to rent only to men. Faith had no doubts why. The woman had at least agreed to greatly reduced rent in exchange for help with chores, and it angered Faith that most of her hard work was only so they could keep their room and so Johnny would have money to gamble with. At least she had been able to save tips the men paid her for doing their laundry and mending, and the money she earned as a cook, but she had to work seven days a week in order to save what little she had.

  Johnny had taken odd jobs, never kept one of them, always ended up back at the saloon as soon as he began to accumulate a little money. She was just as much in prison here as she had been back in Pennsylvania. She was a married woman, but she might as well not even have a husband. The only attention she got from Johnny was when he came home full of whiskey wanting to make love every night, if it could be called making love. She felt more like an object for him to use to relieve his drunken desires. She deeply resented the nights he would do that after she had worked herself to the bone all day just so they could survive. Didn’t he understand she could not possibly be in the mood to have him pawing at her when she had worked so hard all day that everything ached?

  There were times when she felt little pricklings of desire and enjoyment, when she wished Johnny would touch her lovingly first, caress her body, take his time. But Johnny was in too much of a hurry.

  She could bear all of this only by convincing herself that “come spring” something wonderful would happen to change everything. Johnny was still young. He could change. He would take on a man’s responsibilities soon enough once they were in dangerous, lawless country.

  She sat down in a chair and stared at the washtub, the line full of clothes, wondering when this drudgery would end, wondering if her life would be this miserable forever. She could not imagine the shame of being a divorced woman, and she did love Johnny. She was not about to give up this easily. He was good at heart, of that she was sure. He just didn’t know how to help himself. When she was through with the wash, she would go to the restaurant to help other women who worked there begin preparing a stew and baking bread for the night’s supper. She would peel potatoes, knead bread, sweat over a hot stove, go back out into the shivering cold, and come back to the room to take down clothes. Then she would heat an iron over another hot stove and press the shirts, a tedious, tiring job. She would fall into bed at perhaps midnight, and probably sometime in the night Johnny would come home and make his demands. She would comply, only because she didn’t want others in the house to hear them arguing, especially when the argument was about sex.

  Again life had taken on a form of methodical sameness. She feared Johnny would decide to stay on in Chicago and never leave. She didn’t like the city as much as she thought she would. It was noisy and dirty, and sometimes dangerous. She supposed that if a woman was quite rich, life was wonderful there, but it was not wonderful for the poor.

  Fran came in from the kitchen then, wiping her hands on an apron. “There are two men here to see you, Faith. One of them says he’s your father. They’re waiting for you in the parlor.”

  Faith felt her chest tighten as she rose. “Oh, my! He can’t see me like this! You didn’t tell him what I’m doing, did you?”

  Fran frowned, the many wrinkles around her eyes growing closer together. Her hair was black from too much dye, and her eyes were heavily painted. Fran was kind enough, but she had a hard look to her, the look of a woman well experienced in life. “What difference does it make, girl? There’s no shame in hard work.”

  “I know that.” Faith frantically pulled a couple of combs from her hair and retucked a few strands that had fallen from the bun she kept it in when she worked. “I just—you don’t understand. I left without his permission, Fran, married Johnny without his permission, too. I thought we’d have a better life than this. I don’t want my father thinking I made a bad choice.”

  Fran put her hands on her bony hips and grunted. “Hmmmph. You did make a bad choice, child. That boy is still a boy, not a man. There’s no call for you to have to work so hard while he goes and gambles away the money, dreaming he’ll win big and make his own money the easy way. You’d be better off getting rid of him and going back with your pa.”

  “Never!” Faith picked up a wet rag and rubbed it over her face, then went to the back door and opened it for a moment, letting some cold air rush over her to help her look fresh and revitalized. “I made certain vows before God to love Johnny, for better or for worse. Once we settle farther west, things will get better. I’ll not break my wedding vows.”

  She breathed deeply for self-control, hardly able to believe her father had actually found her, or even bothered following her there. She turned to Fran. “Besides,” she added, “anything is better than life back in Pennsylvania. Living back there was like being in prison, Mrs. Babcock. It killed my mother’s spirit. I won’t let the same happen to me.”

  She straightened proudly, taking another deep breath for courage, then headed through the kitchen. You never should have written that letter, Faith Sommers! she chided herself. She had thought the least she could do was tell her father she was safe and sound in Chicago for the winter. After all, he was her father. H
e must have some shred of love for her, enough to worry about her. He deserved to know she was all right, and now that she and Johnny were legally married, there was nothing he could do to stop them. Actually, she was surprised he had bothered to come all this way in winter to see her.

  She braced herself for a chiding and walked into the parlor, realizing only then that it was Henry Bartel with her father. She had supposed it would be Benny. Seeing Henry only gave her more determination to stay put and stick it out with Johnny. She remained near the doorway. “Hello, Father. I was just in the kitchen helping Fran. You know how I enjoy cooking.”

  The man looked her over scornfully. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What else is there to say? I wasn’t wanted back home, so I left. You didn’t understand my love for Johnny, so I married him anyway. We’re wintering here, then heading farther west. You’ve seen me. You know I’m all right, so you can go back home and not worry about me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes. We’re doing fine, and we’ll do even better once we’re farther west and settled.”

  “Settled! Johnny Sommers will never settle! Where is he now?”

  Faith folded her arms, tucking her hands under each arm so her father would not see how red and swollen they were. “Working,” she lied, feeling instantly guilty for it.

  “Is he, now? And where might that be? I want a good talk with him.”

  Faith turned away, wanting to cry. “That isn’t necessary. Please just go back to Pennsylvania. Why on earth did you come here, anyway? I told you in the letter I was all right, and you know I’m married now. Just go home, Father.”

  The man drew a deep breath, and even with her back to him Faith could feel his big, burly presence. Matthew Kelley had a way of filling a room and emanating authority. “I’ve come to see for myself that you are all right. Whether you believe it or not, I love you, Faith, and you are wanted back home. I’ve brought Henry along with me because he’s still willing to marry you if you’re ready to divorce yourself from Johnny Sommers. Surely by now you’ve seen he’s only made of promises and dreams. He’s not a man to depend on. Henry understands you’re young and spirited. You’ll get over that in time. We can arrange an annulment, and you can come home and live a proper life.”

  She faced both men. “Don’t you understand I never want to go back there? I agree Johnny still needs to do some growing up, but he’s—he’s good to me. He loves me, and he has big dreams. I’m going to help him fulfill those dreams, just as he wants to help me fulfill mine. I’ve married him, Father, and I will not break the vows I made before God to love him till death.” She glanced at Henry, shivering inwardly at the thought of being married to him. “I appreciate the fact that you are still offering to marry me, Mr. Bartel. But I am already married, and that won’t change.” She looked back at her father. “It’s good to hear you say you love me, Father, and I love you. But I can’t go back there. I can’t deny my true self the way Mother always had to do. And you still have Benny. You always loved him best.”

  The man frowned. “He’s my only son, girl. Favoring him doesn’t mean I love you the less.”

  Faith blinked back tears, wondering if the man could ever understand how he’d hurt her all the times he’d punished her unnecessarily. “Father, I can’t go back. I never want to go back. I can’t live that way, and I won’t make my children live that way. I’ll be all right. I know how to work hard. I promise to write when we get settled out west.”

  Henry was shaking his head. “I am thinking perhaps she truly is too high-spirited for the likes of me,” he said to Matthew. “I will walk back to the hotel and give you some time alone. I would like to take the train back to Pennsylvania tomorrow. I have matters to tend to, and children waiting for me.”

  After Henry took his leave, Matthew’s eyes began to blaze in that way they looked whenever he was angry with Faith. “You will suffer for your wild heart, girl. You will learn there is no future with Johnny. You are headed into dangerous country, full of outlaws and wild miners and Indians, and you will find yourself alone against them! Mark my words.” He walked closer, grasped her arms, and forced them apart. He held up her hands and studied them, then shoved them away and let go of her. “With all the hard work you did at home to help the family, your hands never looked like that! Tell me the truth, girl! Where is Johnny? Has he already left you?”

  Faith moved away from him, forcing back more tears. “Johnny would never leave me. He lost his last job and he’s looking for another job… I’m doing laundry for Mrs. Babcock’s customers. I’m doing it so we’ll have even more money for when we go west. Johnny wants to look for gold. We’ll need money to buy the kind of equipment he’ll need, and for a wagon and oxen.”

  “Gold! Only fools go looking for it, and most do not find it!”

  Faith closed her eyes and sighed. “No matter what happens, we will be fine.” A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly brushed it away. “I know you love me, Father, but to you love means that those you love must do everything you direct them to do, to live their lives the way you say they should live. I just want to be me, Father, and I can’t do that back in Pennsylvania.”

  Matthew stiffened in indignation. He put his hat on his head, looked long and hard at her. “God be with you, Faith Kelley. You will most certainly need his grace.”

  She lifted her chin. “My name is Faith Sommers now.”

  “And I regret the day Johnny Sommers ever came into our lives. I pray you won’t have the same regret someday. God bless you, Faith.”

  To Faith’s surprise she saw tears in the man’s eyes.

  “I will miss you, Faith, just as I sorely miss your mother.”

  Faith nodded. “I miss her, too. I understood her better than you did, Father, because I am just like her.”

  “Oh, yes, how well I know that. And I suppose with that fiery spirit of yours, perhaps you will get by, in spite of Johnny Sommers.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ve done my duty as a father, made you an offer to come home and marry Henry. You have chosen against it, and I cannot be blamed for whatever life brings you. Goodbye, Faith.”

  Oh, how hard it was not to break down in front of him, but Faith was determined to appear strong, to make him believe she was happy. “Good-bye, Father.” She stood rigid as the man left, waited for the door to close before she sat down in a chair and wept.

  Faith took a nightgown from a bureau drawer, wishing she could first take a long, hot bath before getting ready for bed. But a bath cost extra money, unless she wanted to carry all the hot water herself to the tin tub in the bathing room at the end of the hall. She was far too tired for that. She lay the gown out on the bed, and just then she heard the outer door of the boardinghouse open and close.

  She heard Johnny’s voice downstairs and wondered what he was doing home early. It was only eleven P.M. Lately he had been staying out most of the night and sleeping late in the mornings. She almost wished he hadn’t come home so soon. She didn’t want to talk, and she certainly did not want to make love.

  She heard an unfamiliar voice; then Johnny came bounding up the stairs. After a tap at the door he entered, smiling.

  “You’re still up! Good,” he greeted her, wearing his usual brash smile, as though neither of them had a care in the world. “I’ve got somebody I want you to meet. Come on.”

  “Johnny, it’s after eleven o’clock! Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “Oh, it will only take a minute.” He took her hand and pulled her to the door.

  Downstairs in the parlor a tall, robust man with a grizzly beard stood in soiled buckskins. He removed a coonskin hat, showing a head that was mostly bald except for hair around the bottom edge that he had let grow long over his shoulders. It looked flat and oily. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue. The way those eyes moved over her when she came into the room, she might as well have been naked. She had to force herself not to avert her nose from the smell in the room, the sm
ell of a man who did not understand the word “bath.”

  “Honey, this is Cletus Brown, and he’s going to take us west, be our guide.”

  Faith shivered at the thought, hoping Johnny meant with a wagon train where many other people would be around.

  “Clete, this is my wife, Faith,” Johnny finished.

  Faith nodded slightly to Clete.

  “Evenin’, Mrs. Sommers.”

  “I just won a bet with Clete,” Johnny said, putting an arm around her. “Instead of money, I said if he lost, he’d have to guide us on farther west, up to the new gold discoveries in Montana. He’s led lots of wagon trains, knows the west like the back of his hands, has even dealt with Indians and can speak some Sioux and Cheyenne. All we need to do is buy some equipment and we’re on our way come spring. We’ve got enough saved for a wagon and all, don’t we?”

  We? Faith thought. I have money saved, money you don’t even know about. “Whatever I can hang on to that you don’t gamble away,” she answered aloud, folding her arms authoritatively. She pulled away from him. “If you don’t stop gambling, Johnny, we’ll have nothing.”

  He shrugged. “I won good today. We’ll be all right, and at least now we don’t have to pay a guide.”

  Faith glanced at Cletus again, wondering if the man truly did not expect any pay. She suspected they had better keep their money well hidden on any journey they might take with Cletus Brown. “Well, Mr. Brown, we will certainly have to feed you, won’t we? I don’t exactly call that free guidance.”

  Clete smiled through yellowed teeth. “That’s a fact, ma’am, but I’m a right good hunter. I’ll shoot fresh meat most of the time. You can cook it. Johnny says you’re a right fine cook, seein’ as how you do the cookin’ over at Flora’s Diner. You ever cook wild-buffalo meat? Wild dear? Rabbit?”

  “Deer and rabbit. Never buffalo.”

  “Well, it’s not much different. You’ll like the taste of it. Anyways, since I’ll be killin’ wild game for most of our meals, it won’t cost you much to feed me.”