Prairie Hearts

by J. B. Marsden

  Emma cleared her throat and clasped her sweaty hands. “I…We’re friends, Laura.”

  “More than friends, I ken.” Laura’s brown eyes squinted and she peered closely at Emma.

  “What can you mean?” Emma took a deep breath.

  “I reckon mayhap you to be sweet on her. The way she dotes on you, I suspicion she’s sweet on you.”

  Emma blew out a long breath. “I…I don’t know how to answer that. We, uh…do care for each other. I’ve come to rely on our friendship. We talk together oft times. I like her very well.”

  Laura nodded silently. “I see.” Her eyes squinted, not in anger, but in tenderness. “I wouldn’t let Conner ken. He was hateful to her and you. He had words with her afore, at the barn-raising. He for certain ain’t no gentleman.”

  Emma smiled tightly. “I take your meaning.” She turned away, donned her boots, and grabbed her bonnet from the hook by the door. “I am obliged for your help.” She touched Laura’s shoulder. “I’ll go milk, feed the livestock, and gather eggs, and then you can get on your way.” As she tied her bonnet, she escaped out the doorway.

  Dear God, what am I doing with Carrie? I can’t help myself around her. Please help me, God.

  Millie came docilely when called and the milking went quickly. The goats had to be coaxed with some oats, but finally stood for her. After feeding Millie, the goats, Titan, and Maisey, Emma returned with two pails of milk.

  Thunder boomed in the distance. The sky roiled with clouds.

  “Looks like a storm on the way. Will you be safe riding home?”

  Laura tucked Carrie’s blankets in and smoothed them. “I heard a thunder-clap off in the west. I have a cover, so I do not figure to get too wet. I will leave the broth for her when she can take it.”

  “She’s taken a very little sustenance. I hope to have her back home by day after morrow, if the fever runs its course as usual.”

  “If’n you do not need me on the morrow, I’ll send Josh with more broth.”

  “Thank ye, Laura. You helped very much this morn.”

  They hugged.

  Laura eyed her with a slight smile. “Carrie met with luck finding you, Emma. If you break her heart…” She cleared her throat. “I reckon you do not scheme to hurt her.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her.” Emma shook her head. “I care for her. I am grateful beyond measure for your…You understand. Carrie met with a blessing to have you as her sister, as well.”

  Emma watched Laura mount Napoleon and trot down the trace, then exhaled deeply. Her heart galloped. She didn’t know what Laura would tell James, or what it meant, but—God help her—she did know she loved the woman ailing in her bed.

  On the trace, Laura smiled, pondering Emma and Carrie. Some ladies looked out for each other in their spinsterhood. Carrie would not be so lonely, mayhap, now that she had Emma as a helpmate. A body to fuss over her and for Carrie to help, strong and likely as she was. Conner and other men like him worried her. Women would ken their mutual help more than men, and look kindly on them. James would not take it amiss unless Carrie couldn’t help with the fields and livestock.

  It gave her pause. Where would Emma and Carrie’s hankering for each other end up?

  While Carrie continued to be feverish the whole morning, she had not fussed or had any more dreams. Her illness on the downslide, Emma determined she could safely leave Carrie to spend a little time on her chores.

  She weeded her gardens, picked leaves from her herbs, and brought them into the cabin to string to dry. Housework that had received little attention since Carrie arrived also occupied her.

  After she wiped down her dry sink and carried water to fill her barrels, Emma sat for a time, looking at her patient. Carrie’s hair strayed from her dark blond braid, but her color had returned to a healthy pink.

  Carrie awoke after midday.

  “There you are.” Emma stroked Carrie’s cheek. “How do ye feel?”

  “I might live,” Carrie joked.

  Humor. A good sign.

  “Are you hungry? Could you take a little food?”

  Carrie had made it past the worst of it. Never had Emma seen the like of a body getting over the fever so quickly. Tense muscles in her neck and back eased.

  “I reckon I could. My stomach’s an empty bucket.”

  Emma helped Carrie sit up, plumping a pillow behind her back. “You look weak as a kitten.”

  Carrie smiled. “Don’t figure to cut hay just yet.”

  Emma prepared some bread with fresh butter and heated Laura’s broth over the fire. “Your sister brought this while you were asleep this morn.”

  “Laura stopped? Just like her to make a fuss.”

  “Eat some, now.”

  “Thank ye kindly, Emma. You brought me through the fever. I am mighty obliged to ye for troubling over me.”

  Carrie drank only a few small spoons of the broth.

  “You need to have more.”

  “My stomach says not right yet. I promise to take more, mayhap when I’m more awake.”

  Emma eyed her carefully. “You are still peaked. Rest some more.”

  “I done rested so much.” Carrie yawned widely and Emma laughed.

  “I see.”

  Carrie laid back and fell asleep quickly.

  Carrie woke to the setting sun in the west doorway shining on her. She threw the covers off in the stifling cabin. Poor Emma’s been toiling to beat all for me. Need to get back to my own toils. She swung her legs slowly over the side of the bed. Her head no longer banged with pain. The aches were gone. She steadied her wobbly legs by grabbing the nearby chair. Then she took mincing steps toward the open doorway.

  She spied Emma walking out in the yard toward the chicken coop, most likely to gather eggs. She was lovely in her bonnet covering her dark braids.

  When she came out of the coop, Emma looked up to the cabin door. “What in heaven’s name are you doing out of bed?” She marched toward the cabin.

  “I got up. What a body does at sunup, not toward candle-lighting. Don’t fret. I got lonesome.”

  “Get back to bed.” Emma scooted around Carrie in the doorway and placed the eggs in her apron into a small wooden bowl on the table.

  “James needs me.”

  “Not this day. He needs you strong. Come into in the cabin, now.” Emma shooed her away from the doorway.

  The more she walked, the steadier she felt. Carrie plopped down at the table. “I ain’t going back to that bed, as nice as it was.”

  “You are stubborn as Blanton’s mule. Even so, I’m glad the fever’s passed.” She stroked the stray strands of Carrie’s hair.

  “I can’t act the babe any longer. You look tuckered out. Mayhap you are the one who needs the bed. Can I put my breeches and shirt back on?”

  Emma sat at the table next to Carrie and took her hand. “If you’re certain you’re better, I’ll allow you to sup here. But you will retire early. If James needs help with haying, he wants the strong Carrie, not the weak one.” Emma picked up Carrie’s clothes. “I’ll help you get dressed.”

  “Nobody ever called me weak afore, honey. And, you’re acting bossy-like.” Carrie arched her brows. “I’m not one to take to bed, nor am I one to take sick.”

  They smiled into each other’s eyes.

  Emma sighed as she assisted Carrie to dress. “Supper’ll be ready soon.”

  A horse trotted up and Josh called out from the yard. “Miss Reynolds?”

  “Master Joshua. Come in.”

  “Momma tol’ me to leave some more broth and skedaddle home afore candle-lighting. Oh, Auntie Carrie, you came through the fever?”

  “Hey’up, boy-cub. I’m good as new.”

  “Not quite that good, but she’s getting her strength back.”

  Josh smiled.

  “Here are some blackberries for your trouble.” Emma handed him a small bowl filled with plump, dark blue berries.

  “Thank ye, Miss Reynolds.” Josh’s eyes went wide and he
dug into the berries, eating them in three handfuls and presenting the empty bowl to Emma. “They was tasty.”

  Emma and Carrie laughed.

  “Did you taste those berries, boy? You ate them like the End Days were coming.” Carrie looked on him with affection.

  Josh blushed. “Sorry, Auntie Carrie. They were so sweet I couldn’t hold back, I reckon.”

  “You get on home, now. Tell your momma and poppa I will show up on the morrow.”

  “Yes’m. We missed you, Auntie.” He pecked her on the cheek. “Good night.”

  Carrie cleaned the bowl of the broth and finished with the bread and butter. Her eyes still were shaded with tiredness and the aftereffects of her illness.

  “Will you sit on the bed, at the very least, and rest? You can string some of my herbs for me while I do dishes.” Emma gave Carrie a hard stare. “I’m still in charge.”

  “Yes’m, Miss Bossy Breeches.” Carrie winked, but did not argue.

  After dishes, they both sat quietly stringing herbs.

  “They’ll dry quick in the heat, I reckon.”

  “I hope this coming storm chases the heat away.”

  It had not started raining yet, but the sky blackened more after sunset and the thunder came closer.

  Emma lit her candles.

  Carrie glanced at Emma, who had a pondering look to her. “Do you have worries?”

  Emma had picked up her mending and looked up. “I…Yes. Not worries. You should know Laura asked about us.”

  Carrie paused her work on the lavender. “About us?”

  “I was fussing over you when she came by.” Emma spoke haltingly. “She saw that I treated you like more than a friend, Carrie.”

  “You were doting over me.”

  Emma’s lips pursed. “She told me not to hurt you.”

  “You would never—”

  “Yes, sweeting. She accepted we were close. She was looking out for you.”

  Carrie licked her lips. “What else?” Knowing Laura, she would have more to say.

  “She worried about men like Conner.” Emma laughed nervously and said, “She said James would not take notice of us.”

  “He worries that I pull my weight with the farm, that’s all.”

  Emma nodded.

  Rain pattered against the ground in the yard. Emma stood and walked to the door, but did not close it.

  “I wouldn’t abandon James or the children. I don’t want to leave you on your lonesome here. Conner and his like…I would die if he got at you. Men who get liquored have evil ways, honey.”

  Emma sat on the bed next to Carrie. Carrie clasped Emma’s hand to her breast. She wanted so much to protect her. Her love. Her heart.

  Emma leaned in for a sweet kiss. Carrie hugged her close and rubbed her back.

  Emma broke the kiss. “Let’s ready for bed. I’ll close the door when the cabin cools. You stay here in my bed. I’ll take the other bed.”

  Carrie hoped they would share the big bed. She reckoned Emma was still taking care of her. And she didn’t want to keep Emma awake, should she have a restless sleep. “If you want.”

  They each took off their outer clothes. Emma helped Carrie remove her breeches and shirt and got her under the sheet. “Blankets are on the foot of the bed should you be cold in the night.”

  When Carrie was settled on the pillow, Emma leaned down for another kiss.

  “Sleep well, sweeting. I am so grateful you have come through the fever.”

  Tweeting birds and Emma’s rooster woke Carrie. She rose, feeling much better, but still not up to snuff. The rain had cooled off the cabin, and her heart felt light. She dressed slowly, conserving her energies, and walked to the livestock paddock. Millie eyed her with big brown eyes. Carrie patted her shoulder, gave her a flake of hay, and stooped to milk her. Millie mooed her thanks and stood patiently.

  The air did feel cooler, but the sun rose warm like late June, the sky cleared of the gray clouds and mugginess. She sighed into Millie’s side while the milk flowed into the bucket. Emma’s five goats stepped closer, their udders hanging low, and nudged her in the back. Carrie laughed at their impatience.

  The bright sun crested the tall prairie grass and creekside trees, and the robins, red-winged blackbirds, and other fowl flitted through the seeds of the cone flowers and partridge pea that made the prairie a sea of yellow.

  Her heart did a little dance with her feelings of love for Emma and her tender care of her. She had fussed and toiled while Carrie was laid up for a day and a half. The fever shook her. She’d never ailed like that. Only a cold now and again or a stomachache. She helped Laura nurse the children but never caught their ailments. She never knew how it felt to be nursed herself, not Emma’s kind of nursing. She still felt the comfort of her gentle hand on her brow, the cool cloth wiped over her, or the sips of broth Emma spooned for her.

  It was a puzzle. Drawn by Emma’s loving nursing, she still felt like a baby, not a grown woman used to toiling and prideful of her strong back.

  The next day, Laura dressed Gerta and the boys in their Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. They were going to Mr. Wentz’s preaching in the newly built church up in Locust Hill, a cabin put up by all the neighbors of the county last fall that would serve as a community meeting hall as well. Carrie, also dressed in her black coat and best long trousers, tied her black cravat at the neck to close the muslin shirt.

  Laura looked at her. “That ain’t hanging right.” She untied it, while Carrie stood pursing her lips.

  “I don’t need a mother.”

  “I reckon you don’t. Mayhap somebody to care for ye, though.” Laura grinned mischievously as she finished getting the cravat straight.

  Carrie eyed her.

  “You need another body oft times. We all get lonely. We all need a helpmate and a body to look after us.”

  “Who looks after you?”

  “James, ’course. Mayhap not like this, but he cares for us all by his toils and his tender ways. Even when he gets bossy about it.”

  Laura’s words hit Carrie with their honesty. She oft times felt like deadwood in her brother’s life. She knew she pulled her weight on the farm and helping with the young’uns’ learning, but it wasn’t the same as having her own family. Having a special person to hold your heart and who you doted on in turn. She figured, until coming to Illinois, to live out her days being the Strattons’ maiden aunt, hoping never to burden them.

  But of late, she felt more lonesome and hankered after more—but more what? She tried not to ponder on it because such was fanciful idleness. She needed to keep busier around the farm. And mayhap help Emma. Emma, who made her heart feel full. Whom she had kissed. Who Laura joked about her about as a wife, didn’t she?

  Carrie left off this silliness and helped get the young’uns into the wagon for preaching.

  Riding in the wagon, her weak body was glad of James on the bench next to her, his steady hand on Napoleon’s reins.

  “I put a bag of garden produce for Mrs. Conner in the back. Did I tell ye the young’uns looked starved when Emma and I tended them?” she asked him.

  “Conner hit hard times on his farm, wolves got to his one milch cow, and some of his crop drowned in the rains back in May right ’pon planting them in the lowland he farms. He’s had some bum luck, for certain. But I reckon his table has no young’uns around it…” James cleared his throat. “I mayhap should not be uncharitable toward him. His wife deserves more. You’re doing your Christian duty by them.”

  “What more can we do to help them?”

  “I reckon what you and Laura been doing. Sharing our extry vegetables. Moose is coming to Sunday dinner later. Mayhap we will scheme to get another milch cow to him.”

  She was sad about Conner’s hardscrabble life, especially in the face of James’s own good luck with their farming since pioneering this spring. No chicks had gone missing and now had grown to pullets. The gilts were gaining weight. The fields grew green and weedless. So far, the gardens produ
ced twice as much as back home. The Illinois soil was deep black, while Christian County soil had been filled with rocks and was hard as a clay pot. While the prairie plowing had taxed her and James, the crop yields would far outstrip any they had seen farming in Kentucky.

  “He chose his land too close to the swamp. And open to the critters out in the open, I reckon.”

  Carrie sighed. “I reckon. I feel sorry for his wife. She’s a likely woman, even if a bit skinny. She loved those young’uns. And she’s always a help to others around her. She took care of Lucas Ford’s poor babe. Mayhap we can do something for her.”

  The preaching at Locust Hill Church attracted a good crowd of their friends and a few from farther up the Illinois River. Emma sat with them all, to Carrie’s delight.

  A sad-eyed Mrs. Conner shyly sat on the back bench. Carrie’s heart warmed to see Elizabeth, Blanton, and Thad scoot in next to her. Conner was nowhere to be seen.

  After preaching ended, they gathered in the churchyard, next to the graves.

  “Moose, you and Nancy can follow us to home,” Laura said. “Emma, you ride in the wagon. Carrie will bring you home after dinner.”

  Nancy said, “I made a hoecake.”

  “I am much obliged, Nancy. That’ll go well with the beans I cooked. We need to catch up on the talk. I ain’t seen you much since coming up here.” Laura patted Nancy’s shoulder.

  The Sunday dinner was hearty fare prepared by Laura and contributed by both Emma and Nancy. They ate their meal out in the yard in the heat of midday, the children on a blanket and the six adults on a table James and Carrie set up with planks and benches from the cabin.

  James asked, “Moose, how did Red Fox and Laban happen to be here instead of in Missouri with the rest of the tribe?”

  All of them had wondered about the two odd men.

  “Laban found Red Fox hurt from an attack of a panther, lying in the prairie grass over near Springfield way. Panthers are not seen much, but a mother had kits and Red Fox walked too close to ’em, unawares. The way Red Fox tol’ him, his tribe left him behind, reckoning he would die from the hurt. Laban tended his wounds and they been buddies since. Laban’s been trekking over Illinois hunting, trapping, and trading with pioneers for a year or more. They stuck together and still trek around keeping body and soul as best they can. But some of the local pioneers chased them from their ground. I give ’em some trade when they have flint and pelts and the like. James, you been a real neighbor to them.”