Prairie Hearts

by J. B. Marsden

  He lined up on one of his fine geldings. Titan was ridden by Mr. Winters, James mounted Napoleon, Blanton rode Maisey, and Moose sat on his own stallion. Red Fox trotted into the lineup on a mare loaned him by Dixson. Farmers and wives murmured.

  Susannah let a hanky drop to start them.

  Men placed bets on Dixson to win and followed the horses thundering around the oval by the brown clouds of dust in the horses’ wake. The course wended around the church, Wallace’s cabin, and Moose’s store. Wives and children yelled encouragement to their husbands and fathers.

  When Red Fox’s mount passed Dixson at the halfway mark a roar rose up. Red Fox kept a small four-yard lead until the finish line. Dixson came in second and Moose’s stallion third. The rest galloped past.

  For a moment, the crowd was silent. Then a shout went up for Red Fox and the men clustered around him. He smiled when they clapped him on the back. The prized jug of apple jack was shoved into his hands.

  Laban began pouring for them all. They laughed and joked about the race and Dixson gallantly shared in the revelry.

  The men began their wrestling contests and women tended children.

  Emma said, “You look exhausted. Let’s go home.”

  Carrie harnessed Titan and followed the cart on Maisey.

  Carrie did evening chores while Emma made supper. They spent a quiet evening, talking about the day, Dixson’s loss, James and Josh’s win at the three-legged race, and the men who stood for office.

  After supper Emma read more of The Odyssey until Carrie’s eyes drooped.

  “Come along to bed, sweeting.” Emma roused Carrie. “We had a long day.”

  Later in bed, Carrie turned to Emma. “I’m pleased as punch not to have to go to Moss Creek on the morrow. James won’t need me until the summer haying in a fortnight. How do you want me to occupy my time here?”

  Emma stroked Carrie’s cheek. “Always thinking of me.”

  “Your chicken coop could use shoring up. Moose’s bitch is about to whelp. Patch got hold of her in season in May. You could use a dog to protect them, so I asked him for one of his pups for you.”

  Emma kissed her tenderly and smiled into her gray eyes. “Thank ye. My chickens will be be glad.”

  “Boy or girl pup?”

  “Girl. Let us have an all-female farm.” Emma chuckled.

  Carrie drew herself to Emma’s body, clasping her in a tight embrace.

  “I am so pleased to have you in my bed. In my life,” she whispered into Carrie’s shoulder.

  They came together in quiet caresses and kisses, bringing each other to their passionate release.

  “You are all sweet and soft curves,” Carrie said after catching her breath, as they both lay in the aftermath of lovemaking. She stretched and yawned.

  “Off to sleep with ye, sweeting.” Emma kissed her and turned her back into Carrie’s spoon.

  The next morning after chores, they rode together to Moose’s. Moose showed them the bitch with her five squirming pups, who had just been weaned.

  Emma looked at them, smiling as one black one leapt on her and licked her face.

  “I reckon that one is your girl.” Moose picked up the pup and scratched behind its ears.

  They brought her home on Maisey, asleep, cradled between Carrie and Emma.

  The rest of the day Carrie patched gaps in the chicken coop, then built a small enclosure for the pup nearby using Emma’s woodpile. Like Patch’s bed at home, she stuffed the doghouse with straw for bedding.

  Emma clasped the puppy against her apron and came out to see Carrie’s work. “What name for this pup?”

  Carrie stood and brushed off her breeches and shirt. The pup was so cute. She rubbed its head. “She doesn’t have Patch’s spots. More the coloring of Moose’s bitch, Josie.”

  “I think her name must be Juniper.” She petted and cooed at the puppy. “Do you like the name Juniper?” she asked it. The puppy licked her face and snuggled against Emma’s bosom. “She says yes.” This set Emma giggling and nestling with Juniper.

  Carrie shook her head. “You and Juniper are a pair.”

  Several more families came down with fevers and chills as the hot days of July went on. Carrie accompanied Emma to the Morgan family north of Locust Hill who’d recently arrived from Virginia.

  Mr. Morgan greeted them and led them into his newly constructed cabin.

  “Thank ye for coming. I’m a partner with Dixson. He informed us of you, Miss Reynolds. Four of the five children are down, as is my wife, Mary.”

  Carrie introduced herself and they set to making teas with their herbs. Mrs. Morgan shivered under blankets on a bed. The children, two boys age ten and seven, and two girls, age eight and three, lay on a large pallet on the floor.

  Emma approached Mrs. Morgan while Carrie went to each of the children. An older girl, perhaps twelve, helped Carrie get the little ones to drink the tea, one by one.

  Emma said, “Mrs. Morgan. I’m Miss Reynolds from down in Locust Hill.”

  She looked at Emma through feverish eyes and whispered, “Thank ye, Miss Reynolds. Let me help with the children.”

  Emma gently pushed her shoulder down. She was a slight woman, weak in her illness, but did not have the hungry look that had so impressed her with the Conners. “No. Miss Fletcher and I are here to take care of them.”

  The older girl came to her mother. “Ma, do what Miss Reynolds says. I can take care of y’all.”

  Mrs. Morgan touched her daughter’s hand. “You are a good girl, Hannah.” She became drowsy with the effects of the willow bark tea and went to sleep.

  Mr. Morgan watched Carrie and Emma. “Will you teach me to make these teas? Hannah and I’ll tend to them. How often do we give them the medicine?”

  Emma showed Hannah and Mr. Morgan the leaves and willow bark and their purpose in sleep and reducing fever. “Give them a dose every four hours or so or when they wake. Keep them cooled with damp cloths when the fever comes, and make sure they have enough blankets when they get chilled. This is most likely what we call pioneer fever out here on the prairie and should pass in two days.”

  Mr. Morgan took the herbs from Emma and repeated her instructions to a tee.

  An educated man. “Use up what we give you. If you need more, my cabin is down the trace five miles. Dixson can give you exact directions.”

  “We are powerful grateful, miss. Hannah nurses quite ably, and she and I will fare well now.”

  On the way down the trace, Emma and Carrie left medicines for another family.

  “Moose told James that the Morgans will be going in with him in his new lumber mill. Morgan had a mill in Virginia.”

  “All the neighborhood needs milled lumber. No more log-rolling, thank heaven.”

  After riding another mile or so south on the trace, Carrie said, “Looka there. Blackberry brambles.”

  They stopped and picked berries to put in Carrie’s neckerchief.

  Carrie stole a handful, fed some to Emma, and ate the rest.

  Emma hummed. “Yum. So sweet. Blackberry cobbler tonight, my darling.”

  “My favorite.” Carrie smiled. “I wonder how our little pup Juniper does?”

  “I trust she hasn’t run off.”

  “I made a leather thong to tie her to her new house. She sleeps like a pup still, so I reckon she hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  Mr. Winters was petting Juniper on her leash when they trotted into Emma’s yard.

  He stood, smiled, and doffed his hat. “I see this pup has taken up residence.”

  “That is Juniper, Charles.”

  “She’ll be a mighty fine dog. Is she one of Moose’s pups from Josie?”

  Emma dismounted and talked with Mr. Winters while Carrie unsaddled Titan, brushed him, and let him out to pasture with Maisey.

  Carrie asked him, “Do you reckon to lay by some hay soon?”

  “Aye. Tomorrow looks likely. Don’t judge any rain acoming.”

  “I’ll help with haying. We ca
n send for one of the Stratton boys to come up, or James, if it pleases you.”

  “That pleases me just fine.” Mr. Winters donned his hat. “I’ll see y’all on the morrow.” He leaped on his horse and headed down the trail.

  Carrie did the evening milking while Emma made blackberry cobbler and cooked green beans and salted pork that they would eat with leftover corn cakes for supper.

  That night they talked of the Morgan family.

  “Dixson and he raised horses together in Virginia. Dixson’s first wife died and he decided to pioneer in Illinois, where he had the government land grant. Moose says Morgan served under Dixson in the War of 1812 in Indiana Territory. They enlisted together, childhood friends and all. Morgan had a land grant as well, and traded it for land next to Dixson.”

  “I didn’t know of Dixson’s first wife.”

  “Moose tells that she and a babe both died of lung fever. Don’t know more than that.”

  “Susannah tells me she is ten years younger than Dixson, but she never divulged she was his second wife. Does she know, do you think?”

  Carrie shook her head and shrugged. “I liked Morgan, him nursing his wife and young’uns. Not many husbands would do such when they have a daughter around. He reminded me of Dixson in his manner of speech and polite ways.”

  The same night, Laura darned socks after supper while James taught George and Josh how to whittle in the yard. The girls had been put to bed.

  Laura kept anxiously waiting for one of her brood to come down feverish, but so far none had, thank heavens. George fell that afternoon and scraped his knee, tearing his breeches. Such mishaps were the province of boys, she reckoned.

  She smiled to hear James patiently working with the boys and their knives, newly traded from Moose as presents for their July birthdays. The boys had been so pleased to show their brother Sam and their momma the knives, with carved antler handles, quite a prize on the prairie.

  The boys came in for bed. James sat with a pipe in front of the candle Laura lit at dark.

  “I reckon Carrie does well at Miss Reynolds’s place,” he said between puffs.

  Laura looked up from her darning. “You don’t resent her being up there?”

  “Nope. Just the opposite. Mr. Winters sent word for Josh and me to come up on the morrow to help with haying. Carrie and him will come down Monday week for our haying. Trading out our toils works all way around.”

  “I want Carrie to be less lonesome, James. She come down with low spirits at times. It’ll do her good to work with Miss Reynolds and Miss Reynolds can use the company now, ’specially with her pa dying and all.”

  “I never knew how much I was using Carrie. The boys do a right good job with chores now. I shoulda been teaching them better.” He sat back in the straight-backed chair, smoking. “Never figured she was lonesome. Never knew her to hanker after getting hitched. Can’t quite understand her wanting to be with Miss Reynolds, but if it pleases her, so be it.”

  Laura went back to darning, and smiled to herself.

  A perfect day for haying dawned bright, sunny, dry, and hot. Not a cloud graced the sky as James and Josh rattled in the wagon into Emma’s.

  Charles Winters brought them all out to the prairie grasses he intended to cut and dry for hay. The hay would be divided between Emma and Winters for their use, according to their lease agreement.

  James and Charles wielded the scythes, with their honed, dangerously sharp, serrated edges. Carrie and Josh raked the cut hay into windrows for drying. If they were blessed with the continuation of the current sunny weather, the hay would dry in two days’ time. But, oh, the sun beat down.

  By the heat of midday, a quarter of the grass was cut and the crew sweated mightily. James and Charles removed their outer muslin shirts and worked in short-sleeved undershirts. They drank often from the bucket of water they had brought with them.

  Carrie looked to Josh, who raked quickly and neatly. He’d grown several inches since coming to Illinois, turning eleven a week ago. George turned eight two days after. Both boys impressed Carrie with their industry, picking up her morning chores without complaint, and doing them right well.

  She had shirked her garden and wanted to work on it when the crew did the haying at Moss Creek. So much to do before fall when the herbs died away—gather leaves and seeds, dry the leaves for use in medicinals, make concoctions. Thus far the year had taxed the Strattons and her with the extra toils of establishing a farm on the prairie with nothing but their hands, their wits, and their neighbors. Thank heavens for Blanton and Elizabeth. Moose continued his cheerful self and had also been a real boon to them since arriving.

  And Emma. How blessed was she to have her? A bosom friend. A lover! Thoughts of her speeded Carrie’s raking and renewed her energy under the blasting heat.

  Just then Emma’s gong for midday dinner rang across the field and they lay down scythes and rakes and trooped toward the cabin, wiping sweat off their faces with kerchiefs, and stopping, parched, for another cup of water from the bucket.

  Emma fussed over the four workers, offering them water to cool off before their meal and plenty more to drink.

  “Josh, you look a might overheated. Your face is red as raspberries,” Carrie observed as they all sat under a tree in Emma’s yard to catch the breeze.

  “Yes’m. It’s hot as hades.”

  “You are not to use that word, young’un.” James looked crossly at Josh.

  “Sorry, Poppa.” Josh hung his head and continued to shove food into his mouth.

  “You all look overheated to me,” Emma said, giving Carrie a frown.

  “We’ll cool off as we eat. I reckon we can work nigh until candle-lighting and get most of this field put up. What say you, James?”

  “Aye, Charles. Don’t want to waste a perfect day.” James looked at Josh and Carrie. “You two able to work?”

  Carrie ruffled Josh’s hair. “I’ll look out for him and set him down if’n he overdoes it. We can rake as long as ye can cut.”

  They rose from the ground to return to the field and Emma caught Carrie’s hand. “I need you to come into the cabin for a minute.”

  Carrie looked at Emma quizzically, but followed her.

  As soon as they were inside the door, Emma shut it and embraced Carrie to her snugly.

  Carrie laughed. “Oh.” She kissed Emma, first lightly, then with passion. “You make it hard to return to raking, love.”

  Emma gave a throaty groan.

  “And, I’m not fit to be touched. I have hay everywhere. My shirt is soaked with sweat.”

  Emma smiled at her, stroking her cheek. “And, your face is covered with dust and dirt, but I like you just like this.” She kissed her.

  Carrie broke the embrace and groaned. “Back to the toils of hades.”

  Emma playfully slapped her shoulder. “Saying the words Master Joshua was not allowed. Watch yourself, Miss Fletcher.”

  Carrie pecked on the cheek. “Yes’m.”

  While the weather held hot and dry, they worked unrelentingly in the hay fields at both Emma’s and the Moss Creek farm. As soon as they finished with James’s fields, they returned to Emma’s to load the now-dry hay into wagons provided by James, Blanton, and Dixson and driven by Carrie, Laura, and Josh. They then drove loaded wagons to the three farms.

  In the seven days of haying, they laid by enough hay to feed Emma’s livestock, Charles Winters’s horse and cow, and James’s milch cows, horse, and ox. Blanton laid by his own hay into his new barn with the help of Dixson and some men who lived near him, whom he helped in return.

  Haying taxed Carrie and, now it was done, her muscles cried out to rest. But the herb garden had been neglected for nearly two weeks. She rode to Moss Creek and returned with bags of leaves, seeds, and flowers. “I think we can combine our efforts into one batch.”

  “If you want, sweeting.”

  Emma worked side by side with Carrie, stringing the leaves and sprigs to dry in the cabin’s rafters. The cabin
became a fragrant box of lavender and mint.

  Carrie wended Maisey down the trace toward Emma’s before candle-lighting without a care, humming tunes off-key. The sack tied to the saddle held another peck of her garden herbs. She also packed another sack, tied to the back of the saddle, with vegetables to leave with the Conners. Conner’s threats didn’t scare her enough to ward her off the needs of Mrs. Conner, who now bore a child.

  Mrs. Conner approached her in the middle of the cabin yard. “Well met, Miss Fletcher. What brings you to our door?” Her ashy complexion and sunken cheeks warned Carrie that things did not look to have changed. Her belly protruded but little.

  “A sack of food for ye.” Carrie held it out, still seated on Maisey.

  Mrs. Conner glanced out toward the fields warily. “I…figure I can take it long as my husband…”

  “Aye. How goes your pregnancy?”

  Mrs. Conner shrugged. “Good enough, I reckon. No upchucks, thank the Lord.” She smiled sadly.

  “If’n you need us, we’re both at Emma’s now.”

  “Aye, I heard such.” She looked into Carrie’s eyes with her sad ones. “Thank ye kindly, and please thank Miss Reynolds.”

  Carrie waved off and trotted away, sorry for the woman, poor as Job’s turkey.

  They had another quiet evening after supper in the candlelit cabin. Emma continued to read The Odyssey where they had left off before haying.

  Carrie yawned.

  “Time for bed.” Emma laid down her book, gathered her skirts, and took the candle into the bedroom.

  Juniper yipped loudly. A horse galloped into the yard.

  Carrie, a frown wrinkling her brows, peeked out the front window into the darkness.

  Conner bellowed, “I warned ye to leave off.”

  Boots sounded. The cabin door banged open.

  Her heart about to pound out of her chest, Carrie stood her ground to the side of the door.

  Conner’s hands bit into her arms painfully. He reeked of liquor. She twisted to get free, but could not. He pushed her hard into the kitchen and she banged her hip against the table. Emma screamed from the other side of the cabin room.