by T. S. Joyce
“Should I not take it?” I asked Luke. I couldn’t bear to wear something that was a painful reminder to someone else. “I really don’t know anything about patterns or sewing. What if I ruin this fabric?” Suddenly a new dress seemed like a very bad idea. Sure my dress was inappropriate for basically every occasion on the frontier, but it didn’t matter if the lacy thing got dirty, or torn, or eaten by badgers. It didn’t mean anything to anyone.
Luke rifled through the patterns and pointed to one with a gigantic buck knife he’d pulled out of thin air. Where’d he been hiding that?
“Here, try this one,” he said. “It seems like it would be the easiest one. Write down your measurements and I’ll cut them out for you tonight.” He offered the knife hilt first. “Unless you’d like to make the cuts?”
I imagined a whole lot of ways I could maim my hands with a glistening blade that big and shook my head.
“You can start on the dress tomorrow while Jeremiah and I are working. You’ll need something to keep you occupied anyhow.”
And just like that, Luke Dawson found me a hobby.
****
Luke
There’d be no sleeping tonight. The wildest parts of me hummed to be set loose and I thoroughly blamed the woman for bleeding in front of me. She made me feel like a monster and then pushed the beast out of me. I threw my hat at the barn wall. I was stalling like a coward.
Squatting down until the muscles of my thighs stretched, I scented the tiny droplet of blood on my sleeve for the tenth time. It smelled rich and full of iron. All blood smelled different, but hers smelled particularly good. My tongue scratched against the rough fabric of my shirt as I tasted it. I wasn’t a man-eater, but I just wanted to feel that tiny part of her on the tip of my tongue.
Maybe I was a monster.
The house had gone quiet hours ago and I needed to give myself time before dawn. “Just get it over with,” I grumbled as I unbuttoned my vest. As I undressed, my hands shook from fear of the first tingles of the animal stretching inside of me. Anticipation of the pain had my breath shaking like a leaf before I even slid out of my boots.
I pulled a worn leather strap into my mouth and swore, as I always did, I wouldn’t scream this time.
Chapter Four
Kristina
I jolted awake. My breath was rushed like I’d been running from something, and a thin sheen of sweat covered my chest and forehead. Desperate to feel cool air against my burning skin, I struggled out from under the covers and stumbled toward the window. The nightmare remained stubbornly on the edge of my memory, but it must have been bad because it was a rare occurrence I woke in such a state.
The window was simple and easy to push open and the cool breeze against my face was ecstasy. The moon gave a pathetic amount of light away and the night was still dark and long removed from dawn. Outlines of trees that edged the clearing were the only things visible from the window of the room Luke had tossed my bag into earlier.
My bladder was downright uncomfortable. I hadn’t emptied it before bed and was paying dearly for it now. Squirming, I considered my options. Find the outhouse or pee the bed. I wouldn’t hold until morning. My nightdress was much too thin for mixed company, but the Dawson brothers would be fast asleep at this time of night, so I set out on my mission.
Creak. I froze and put my foot onto a different floor plank. Creeeeeeeeeeeak, it went under my weight. Seriously? Was every single board in the house made to booby trap me? I listened but didn’t hear any movement from the bedrooms down the hall. With a little luck, maybe the Dawson’s were as sound a sleepers as I usually was. Creakcreakcreak, I ran for the front door.
I didn’t remember an outhouse by the barn but I’d try there first. One of the oil lanterns stood invitingly on the table near the door and I lit it as quietly as I could before making my escape. The low light threw everything outside of a few feet into shadow. An eerie thing it was to have such limited vision in an unfamiliar place. The slow wind was chilly as it caressed my thin nightdress and the hairs on my arms raised like they knew something I didn’t.
I imagined Indians watching me from the shadows just beyond the light and froze in fear. Ridiculous imagination. Turning back for the door, I weighed my options again. My desperation offered a new one. Wake up Luke and have him escort me to the outhouse, stand guard while I relieved myself, then bring me back to the safety of my room. I bit my lip until it hurt as punishment. I saw the way he looked at me when I got pecked by that ornery chicken. He thought I was pathetic. Waking him in the middle of the night to act as my pee-pee escort? Wasn’t going to happen.
Be brave, be brave, be brave, I mouthed, and it seemed to help. The outhouse wasn’t by the barn or corral. It wasn’t in the clearing at all as far as I could tell, and just when I was about to pop a squat in the side yard, there it stood around the back of the house. The chills that found my skin when I stepped through the door and into the night hadn’t eased up, but they were happily ignored in my private celebration of a pot. The outhouse had a few spiders and I was pretty sure there was some sort of snake trapped down in the deep latrine beneath it, but I’d been in much, much worse and the physical relief I felt was almost tangible. Closing the door behind me, I smiled as I made my way the distance back to the house.
It wasn’t until I was about halfway to the back porch that the shivers in my spine went from a low warning to a scream. Instincts long buried by city life sprung into existence when a low snarl sounded behind me. Fear froze me into an immoveable being. I couldn’t even breathe as I searched the edges of the lantern light. The noise tapered off to a bone chilling sound that tore at the edges of my frayed mind. Slowly as a stream in frozen winter, I turned.
A pair of glowing eyes danced just outside of the light, so I backed toward the house. I had no weapons, save the lantern, to fight whatever had found me. I turned the nob on the side of the lantern until the light was as bright as it would go, and the muzzle of a great gray and white wolf with gleaming bared teeth greeted me. I swallowed a scream and ran for the back door. It was right on my heels and the gnashing of its teeth sounded like cannon fire. I nearly fell on the porch steps but caught myself and flung my frame into the back door.
It didn’t budge.
“Help!” I screamed, as my fists pounded against the thick wood that barred me from asylum. “Help me, please!”
Any moment, the wolf would be on me and I’d die a horrible death within inches of safety. Pounding harder, I fell into the opening door. I hit the ground hard and shoved the door closed with my bare foot. “Latch it. Latch the door!”
Jeremiah did as he was told and squatted in front of me. “What’s happened? What were you doing out there at this time of night?” The anger in his tone made me want to scramble away from him.
Heartbeat thrashing against my ribs, I squeaked, “I had to use the outhouse.”
He spared a glance for the door and then offered me a hand. “Tell me, were you bitten?”
Bitten? I replayed our small conversation but I definitely hadn’t given away what had chased me.
“Bitten by what, sir?” I said carefully.
A frustrated noise escaped his throat and instead of answering, he lifted the hem of my nightdress and scoured my legs.
I snatched my dress and retreated. “I beg your pardon! What on earth are you doing?”
Unapologetically, his eyes searched the bare skin of my arms.
“I’m telling Luke of your atrocious handling of me.”
“Be my guest,” Jeremiah offered. “He’s sleeping out in the barn, so have fun getting there.”
He turned and disappeared into his room in the back of the house and I stood there, filled to the brim with fear and fury and with no outlet to release it. Rushing for the window, I pulled back the daffodil colored curtains far enough to glimpse the outline of the barn. A graceful movement loped across the area in between, and my blood went cold as winter. What if the wolf got in the barn and hurt Luke? And why
was he sleeping in the barn when he had a perfectly good bed inside?
The curtains slid out of my fingertips. I knew why. Because he couldn’t stand to sleep in the same house as me.
I creaky stomped loudly back to my room. How silly had I been to think when I answered that advertisement things would just come together? I’d imagined a hundred different ways my mail order marriage would work out, and none of those imaginings offered an involuntary husband or a wolf attack. And this was day one! I flung myself in a very star-like shape onto the lumpy bed and, for lack of either Dawson brother, glared at the ceiling instead until I tumbled into a fitful sleep.
****
My body had been dragged behind a horse. It had to have to feel like this. And all the soreness was just from sitting there, traveling. Any actual manual labor around the homestead would likely kill me. I was still staring at the ceiling in the same position I’d fallen asleep in by the time the rooster crowed for the sixteenth time. The long, cold slab of anger that tethered me down the night before still clung to me like a second skin.
I was a naturally happy person, but since I’d arrived in town exactly one day ago, I’d gone through waves of insecurity, despair, and fear. I wasn’t myself. This wild place had me reeling and if I didn’t get ahold of myself quickly, what would stop me from free falling for eternity?
I tried a smile. It did make me feel better so I showed some teeth. Smiles were the best medicine, Mother used to say.
A long strand of gray window light brushed a dusty chest in the corner of the room. Emboldened with the prospect of an interesting find, I flopped out of bed and padded to it. Kneeling in front of it, I blew a healthy layer of dust, which looked pretty in my mind, but really the dirty breeze hit the wall and blew back into my dumbly smiling face and lodged itself in my throat. When I was done coughing, I polished a metal plate on the chest that read, G. Dawson.
Lifting the latch, the door slid open easy enough and I waved the remaining dust cloud away. Folded cotton shirts sat in a neat pile and a worn pair of boots lay forlornly in the corner, abandoned by their owner. On a pair of stained chaps, a two letter bundle was tied neatly with rough twine. Fingering the yellowing envelopes, I read the return name aloud. “Gable Dawson of Colorado Springs.” The room took on a new meaning. It belonged to Luke and Jeremiah’s missing brother.
I shut the chest before any more ghosts could escape.
Did the room enjoy being occupied again? Or was I a disappointment after it had housed another for so long and then been left to undusted desolation? I stood and reached for the scandalously cut dress hanging from a corner chair. I’d take good care of the room until he returned, because I, like the other Dawsons, liked to think the one they waited for still existed in the world somewhere.
Shimmying into my blue, lacy dress was a challenge with sore muscles, but with the high of accomplishment, I headed for the smell of yeast that wafted from the kitchen. A plate of rolls warmed over embers, and a generous slab of soft butter sat invitingly on the table. A feast for a king where I came from. Jeremiah had one such roll dangling from his mouth as he pulled his duster on by the door.
Cheerfully, I said, “Morning.”
He frowned suspiciously. “Mornin’,” he said around the biscuit.
“Heading out?” I asked. Really I wanted to know where Luke was, but it would be rude to ask right away. Men needed to be buttered up like the soft rolls first.
His biscuit dropped into his waiting hand. “Lots of work to be done around a place like this. I left a basket of sewing stuff by the fireplace for you.” His eyes dropped disapprovingly to the black lace on my bodice. “Try to finish the dress today so we don’t have to see you flouncing around in that get up any longer.”
“Got it. No flouncing. Do you happen to know where your brother is this morning?”
Obnoxious knowing grin! “He’s already out with the cattle. He’s alive and well, Miss Yeaton.” The door creaked as he opened it wide. “See you tonight.”
The closing of the door behind him made a terribly lonely sound.
****
Luke
The black horse under me was a skittish creature, but I liked that about him. There was always risk when riding him. A chance at a surprise ride at top speed was a possibility that could happen at any moment.
A skittish mount kept me on my toes.
The stirrups jangled as I dismounted and tied the horse off at a tree to check the damage. One cow wasn’t bad and at least I’d had the good sense to hunt our own livestock last night. I stood over the remains and pulled a blue handkerchief over my sensitive nose. The wolf in me didn’t mind the smell of rot, but the human in me sure enough did.
The flies had already found the deceased animal. I pulled on my gloves and gathered the back hooves before dragging the carcass off into the woods. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about it because there was enough space on our property that the other cattle could escape the gore and predators and scavengers it would bring in. However, I’d taken this one much too close to the watering hole for comfort. Cattle needed to drink.
The sound of hoof beats in the distance motivated me to work a little faster. Jeremiah’s horse wasn’t even stopped yet before he jumped off.
I said, “Now look—”
His fist crashed into my jaw like a stone. I was quick too though, and tackled him at the waist before pummeling him to the ground.
“I didn’t bite her!” I yelled through the flying fists.
The fight lasted longer than it should’ve, but my instincts said my brother needed this. He needed to let his pent up rage out on something or someone, and my face wasn’t made of glass. After it was finished, we sat in knee high grass gasping and bleeding as the cattle watched us like the show had been acceptable.
Jeremiah broke the silence. “Ever since she showed up, you’ve been acting a crazy fool. You had her pinned in the dirt like a rutting animal last night and then your wolf chased her into the house. What were you thinking? You think the first night is the time to introduce her to what you are? Did that really play out well in your mind, Luke?”
“I explained about last night by the barn, and yes, I changed, and yes I chased her into the house but I did it for a reason. I don’t know what she was doing out at that time of night, but she can’t be wondering around outside. What happened to Anna can’t happen again.”
“Don’t,” Jeremiah said. “Don’t use Anna as an excuse for your behavior.”
“I have to! I can’t let that happen to this lady. She should be scared of going outside at night. It ain’t safe for her. If we don’t learn from our mistakes with Anna, then our bloodline might as well fade into oblivion. If we can’t protect them, we don’t deserve wives, children, none of it. Now she knows not to leave the safety of the house at night. I saved her life and she don’t even know it.”
“Well, what did you expect her to do?”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Why did I already feel guilty?
“She had to use the outhouse, Luke.”
My stomach slumped to the grass beneath me. I hadn’t put enough thought into the reasons she was outside in the first place. Sure, the animal ruled when I changed, but I still had some human logic syphoning through. With a soft oath, I shook my head. “I didn’t know.”
“The point is, yes, you’re right. She should know the dangers of going outside by herself at night. At the same time, situations like this are going to come up, just like they did with Anna. She needs to be taught to protect herself if ever there comes a time we aren’t here to keep her safe.”
I chewed slowly on a sweet stem of long wheat while I mulled that over. “What do you suggest?”
“She needs to be taught to shoot. She needs a backbone if she’s going to make it out here.”
“So who teaches her that stuff?” I asked.
Jeremiah pushed me over as he stood. “Her husband does, you dipshit.”
Chapter Five
Kristina
>
I tried not to laugh at my workmanship, but if I didn’t laugh I was going to burst into tears. After scouring the house, I’d discovered a full length pane of mirror glass attached to the back of Luke’s bedroom door. Even in the fading light, the dress I’d tried to sew looked atrocious. Single-handedly, I’d ruined all that fine fabric. I was in a fit of hysterical laughter when Luke burst through his door with a look on his face that said he thought I’d been dying.
“What’s wrong with you, woman?” he asked with wide eyes.
“Do you like my dress?” I asked through a giggle. I curtsied clumsily.
His stunning green eyes traveled the length of my tattered gown. Square corners of fabric stuck out here and there, and there were holes in the puff sleeves where my pieces hadn’t quite matched up. The stitches were loose and the front and back didn’t fit together. The corner of his lip twitched. Once. Twice, before he gave a chuckle that sent me into a fit of laughter all over again. I turned and admired my not-so-handiwork in the mirror once more. It was the least flattering, most ill-fitting dress I’d ever encountered.
“Did I cut the pieces wrong?” he asked, watching me through the mirror with a half stifled smile.
“Oh, I’m sure the pieces were cut fine, but you Dawson boys don’t seem to be hearing me when I say I really can’t sew.” There it was; the sob I’d been trying to keep in. This cloth meant something to Jeremiah and I’d ruined it forever just like I knew I would. I slumped onto the edge of Luke’s bed and cupped my cheeks with my hands.
Luke looked terrified, as most men did in the presence of a crying woman.
“I’ve ruined Jeremiah’s fabric,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said quietly. He wiped the palms of his hands on his tanned hide pants and shut the door. “He’ll understand,” he said as the bed creaked beside me under his weight.
I wiped my eyes on the deformed puff sleeve and hoped he was right.
“You seem like you have a tender heart for a…” He didn’t finish and cleared his throat instead.
