Orphan Brides Go West: The Complete Series

by Vivi Holt

  10

  The pelting rain hammered a dull staccato rhythm against the cottage’s shingled roof. Kurt shrugged off his overcoat and hung it on a peg outside the door, then removed his hat, slapped it against his hand to knock some of the water off and set it on another peg. His muddied boots came off too, to be set on the porch near the dripping coat and hat.

  He took a deep breath and let his gaze wander over the ranch. His view was obscured by the driving rain, but he could see the barn, dark and sturdy beside the house. The horses grazed in the distance, their blacks, browns and tans against the green of the sodden grass. He was grateful for the rain, though it made working that much harder. The crops he’d planted would benefit from a good soaking.

  When he opened the front door, it smelled good inside, and the warmth from the fireplace made feel it cozy and snug the moment he entered. Several of the children sat before the fire, playing some game, he couldn’t tell what. But they were quiet and well-occupied.

  Heather glanced up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. “Howdy, Mr. Sawyer!”

  He grinned at her precociousness – where had she picked that word up? “Howdy yourself, Heather.”

  Something was different about the place, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. It smelled like baking and cinnamon and everything good, in a way that reminded him of childhood Christmases. The lantern light and firelight made shadows dance on the walls and furniture. He spied Holly at the kitchen table, a floral-print apron tied tightly around her trim waist, humming while she kneaded dough on a board he’d cut for her use. “Good evening,” he said, wandering over to greet her.

  She smiled warmly, and it lit him up inside. “Good evening, Kurt. Would you like some coffee? I just made a pot.”

  He nodded and sat at the table.

  She poured it at the stove and set in front of him. “Here, that should warm you up. It’s certainly blowing a gale outside.”

  “It sure is. And that rain is really coming down too.” He frowned. Something was different about Holly. She almost seemed to glow as she buzzed around, putting together what looked like a blackberry pie. She must have gathered berries from the bushes over by the creek. He’d shown them to her the previous week, thinking the children would likely enjoy picking the fruit while they played. “Did you have a good day?”

  She reached across the table to lay her hand on his and meet his eyes. “I did. And you?”

  He startled at her touch, tipping his head to one side. The feel of her skin on his sent a buzz up his arm and he took a quick breath. “It’s been well enough, given the wind, rain and a half-dozen runaway steers. And a leaking barn roof, which I’ll have to deal with another time. But the day’s done, and all’s well that ends well.”

  She nodded, noting his use of the same saying she’d offered him when she first arrived. She pulled away to finish the pie’s top crust. “True enough. Supper’s almost ready – we’re having roast veal with cornbread and greens, and blackberry pie for dessert.”

  He ran a hand over his beard. “That sounds delicious.”

  She hummed a tune while he watched her wipe her flour-covered hands on her apron, then slide the pie into the cast-iron oven. He saw the flash of glowing coals before she closed the door, using her apron to protect her fingers from the heat.

  “I’m going to work on your garden tomorrow,” he began, tapping the tabletop. “If it’s not still pouring rain, that is. It’s time to harvest the pumpkins and gourds, so I thought I’d do that for you and dig up the potatoes and carrots. I want to expand the space, but I’ll probably wait until spring. There’s not much point now, with the planting season passed.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it. You know, that might be something the boys can help you with. Tripp needs something to do – it’s time he started helping around here with the men’s work. And Edward’s only five, but he loves to dig.” She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a trace of flour on her fair skin.

  Tripp’s ears had perked up at the suggestion he could do “men’s work.” “I don’t mind,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  Kurt smiled. “That sounds fine.” But all his attention was on Holly. She really was beautiful, and though he’d noticed that the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, there was something about her now that drew him in. She made his heart feel warm and full. Once, facing his new family at the end of a workday filled him with anxiety, and a few times he’d even found extra chores to keep him away. Now he realized he couldn’t wait to come inside and see her. Even the children’s noisy play and hearty bickering brought a smile to his face.

  Kurt turned his head around to look over his shoulder at the boys. Tripp tugged at a pumpkin still on the vine, and Edward was shoving a trowel two-handed into the earth, a pile of dirt growing beside him.

  Kurt grinned, cut a small yellow gourd free from the vine and dropped it into a string bag he’d looped around his shoulders. The garden was overgrown with weeds, making it difficult to locate the actual vegetables. Some had begun to rot where they were hidden, and he chastised himself over the waste. He hoped Holly would be a more conscientious gardener than he’d been.

  He stepped deeper into the tangle of foliage, foraging through it in search of pumpkins and gourds. They made for good eating – he was looking forward to pumpkin pies and roast gourds with butter and brown sugar – and he smiled in anticipation.

  A sharp pain in his hand made him draw it back with a furrowed brow. What was that? He kicked one boot at the weeds and saw a small thick snake pull back into a loop, its beady eyes watching him closely. He reached for his shovel close by on the ground, raised it high and brought it down hard on the snake’s neck, severing its head in one swift movement. Then he hurried to the edge of the garden and slumped to the ground.

  Tripp was stacking pumpkins into a neat pile, Edward having ducked back into the cottage. “What’s wrong?” asked Tripp, coming over to Kurt and studying him with hooded eyes.

  “Snake bit me,” replied Kurt, holding his wounded hand in the other.

  Tripp gasped. “What kind? Did you see it?”

  “Copperhead, I think.” Kurt’s nostrils flared and he closed his eyes. Of all the thoughtless things … he knew not to poke around in undergrowth like that. He’d been distracted and should have been more careful.

  “I’ll get Ma!”

  Kurt stopped him. “No. You can help me.”

  Tripp squatted beside him. “Yes, sir. What do I do?”

  “Take my knife.” Kurt leaned to one side, exposing the knife he wore in a sheath on his belt.

  Tripp unclipped the sheath and carefully extracted the knife. The blade shone in the morning light.

  “Now, you need to cut the bite like so.” Kurt, teeth clenched, drew an X across the cut with his finger. He hoped the boy was up to it.

  Tripp’s face paled and he took a quick breath. “Yes, sir.” He brought the knife toward Kurt’s hand and hesitated, his hand shaking.

  Kurt met Tripp’s gaze with a forced smile. “I’m glad you’re here, buddy. Wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this.”

  Tripp swallowed, nodded, then gently drew the knife across the bite wounds, then again across them.

  Kurt watched thin lines of blood appear. “That’s it. Well done.” He gritted his teeth, brought his hand to his mouth, sucked out the poison and spat it onto the ground. “Thanks, buddy. Could you trouble your Ma for some water?”

  Tripp nodded and sprinted toward the cottage, soon returning with a cup in his hand, water sloshing over the sides as he ran. Right behind him was Holly, her skirts swishing around her pumping legs. “Are you all right?” she cried, kneeling in the dirt beside him and taking his hands in hers.

  Kurt sighed and extracted his undamaged hand to lay it gently on her head. He stroked her golden hair, feeling a longing he’d never before experienced. “I’ll be just fine. A snake in the grass bit me, but Tripp cut out the poison. He was a big help.” He grinned a
t Tripp over Holly’s bowed head, and the boy’s cheeks flushed red.

  Holly turned to face her son. “Is that so? Well, I’m grateful you were here, son.”

  Tripp ducked his head and scuffed a boot in the dirt.

  Kurt took the cup of water from Tripp, rinsed his mouth and spat on the ground again. “Thanks.” Tripp nodded as Kurt gave him back the cup.

  “I’ll get you a bandage,” said Holly, standing to her feet.

  “Just a moment. Do you think you could help me into the house?” Kurt’s pulse raced. He knew the chances of being killed by a copperhead’s bite were slim, but it could make you wish you were dead. Already he could feel the snake’s venom making its way through his body. He began to shiver as chills ran over his skin.

  Holly nodded and helped him to his feet. He slung his arm over her shoulder and walked to the cottage with her help. He chuckled to himself – he knew he could’ve made it alone, but he was enjoying the opportunity to be so close to Holly.

  Inside, she helped him into a chair, then bent to remove his boots. “I’m sorry about tracking mud through the house,” he told her

  She shrugged and smiled. “Nothing a mop and bucket won’t fix. Are you feeling all right?”

  He swallowed hard. Heat and searing pain radiated from his hand up his arm. The poison working its way through him felt like a steam engine that couldn’t be stopped. “It smarts some.”

  Holly stood and wiped her palms on her apron. “Sarah! Heather!” she called, her voice ringing through the cottage.

  The two girls dashed in from the bedroom, pine cone dolls in their hands. “Yes, Ma?” asked Sarah.

  “Sarah, please boil some water on the stove. Heather, could you fetch the bag of clean rags?”

  The two girls nodded and hurried to comply. Holly headed for the back door. “Where are you going?” asked Kurt, his wounded hand throbbing.

  “There’s an elderberry bush out by the barn. I’m going to harvest some leaves and berries for you. They’ll help with the pain.” She disappeared through the door with a rustle of skirts as his head fall back on the chair.

  Sarah returned after putting the kettle on the stove to boil. She stood staring at him with wide eyes and a nervous frown, seeming unsure of what to say. “Snakebite,” he informed her with a wry grin, and she nodded. Heather joined them, a small bag in her arms, and whispered to her sister before she too turned to stare at him.

  Holly burst back in through the door, holding the edges of her apron up, then headed straight to the table and dumped a bunch of green leaves and berries on its surface. She rummaged beneath the table, found a pot and set it on the stove beside the kettle, then added the berries and water from the pitcher.

  Finally done with that, she turned her attention to Kurt, Sarah and Heather. “Thank you, girls,” she said with a quick smile and took the bag from Heather, who went to bring her mother the kettle. Holly poured some boiling water into a bowl, wet a rag with it and knelt again beside Kurt. “Your hand, please,” she requested. Her voice was gentle, and when she caught his gaze her eyes crinkled around the edges. She took his hand and he flinched in anticipation of pain, but her touch was light as a feather.

  She wiped the cut clean with the cloth, rinsing the rag several times until the water was pink from the blood. She extracted another cloth from the bag, laid it across her lap and grasped a handful of elderberry leaves from the tabletop. “These should help you feel a little better,” she explained as she laid the leaves one by one across the wound, then wrapped the cloth around his hand to secure them. “And I’ll make a tonic from the berries for you to drink as well.”

  Kurt held his breath and watched Holly while she worked. There was a crease between her eyebrows that spoke of concentration, and he wished he could kiss it. But she’d never given any indication that she wanted to be kissed, let alone there. Should he wait for that? They were married, but he didn’t want to push her into something before she was ready.

  How long might that take? He had so little experience with women. He’d courted one back in Mount Vernon, but she’d gotten engaged to someone else, and he’d never had a chance to kiss her. He’d been hurt, confused, and left with no more an idea of how to win a woman’s heart than he’d had before.

  “All done,” said Holly, using the arm of the chair to push herself to her feet.

  “Thank you,” he replied, even as nausea made him wince. “I think I might be sick.” Holly ran for the kitchen, but it was too late - he lost his breakfast all over the floor with one great heave. The two girls jumped back out of the way, their mouths agape in horror. “Sorry,” he grunted.

  Holly returned with a bucket. “Never mind, I’ll take care of it. But I wonder if we shouldn’t go for the doctor?”

  “No need … just a copperhead. I’m sure I’ll feel fine in no time …”

  “Still …,” She wiped his beard and mouth with a wet rag, her face drawn.

  “Who would go?” he asked. He knew he couldn’t ride nor drive a wagon, the way he felt.

  “I’ll send Tripp.”

  He thought a moment. “Fine, if you think the boy’s up to it.” He wasn’t used to having people take care of him. It felt strange and endearing at the same time.

  She nodded. “Sarah, fetch Tripp and tell him to ride to town for the doctor.”

  “But Ma, Tripp doesn’t know how to ride,” Sarah objected.

  “He may not be a confident rider, but he’s learned how to saddle a horse and ride well enough over the last few weeks. Go.”

  Sarah went, and Holly turned to her sister. “Heather, I need more water. Will you fetch me some more from the creek, please?” She held out the bucket, and Heather took it and followed her sister outside. “Now, Kurt, let’s get you into bed.”

  He liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. "Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

  She leaned down to offer him her shoulder for support. He stood, looped his arm around her shoulders, and together they made it to the bedroom, where he fell on the bed with a gasp and a crackle of dry straw. She looked at him, hands on her hips, wisps of hair flying around her pretty face, her blue eyes flashing. “Don’t call me ‘Ma’am’,” she said before walking out.

  Kurt closed his eyes, wishing he had the strength to laugh.

  By the time Tripp returned from town with Dr. White, Kurt had been asleep for hours, tossing and turning on the straw tick. Holly showed the doctor into the bedroom. “Thank you for coming, Dr. White. He says he was bitten by a copperhead and he was sure he’d be fine, but he vomited, and he’s been sleeping since Tripp left to fetch you.” She wrung her hands, her brow furrowed.

  She’d carried on taking care of the house and the children since Tripp disappeared down the long winding drive on Sam’s sturdy back. But she was tense the whole time. Kurt wasn’t getting any better. Tripp had only taken the trail to town in the wagon a few times, never on a horse. Every noise made her heart drop into her stomach, every small annoyance caused her to snap at the children in aggravation. When Tripp finally returned successfully with the doctor, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with relief.

  Now she watched as Dr. White woke and examined Kurt. When he was done, he ushered her from the room, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “It looks as if Kurt has developed an infection along with the bite.”

  Holly’s throat tightened. “What can we do?”

  “Honestly, there’s not much we can do. Have him drink plenty of water, rest and hope for the best. I’m not sure what else would be of benefit in this situation. He says he sucked out the poison, and he’s talking and aware of what’s going on, but his temperature’s high.”

  “I’m making an elderberry wine and there’s a willow tree - I could make some willow-bark tea for the fever.” Her mind raced. What would happen to them if Kurt died? Her heart fell at the thought – how could she go on?

  Dr. White nodded. “He’ll need you most over the next day. By then you should know which way t
hings will turn.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  He nodded. “Sorry there wasn’t more I could do – Sally May Watkins is having her first child down yonder, and I promised her I’d be there …” He tipped his hat and hurried out the door past Tripp, who was standing outside with his hands clenched in front of him.

  Tripp watched him go, then stepped inside. “Ma?”

  “He’s going to be all right, Tripp. You were very brave going after the doctor that way. I’m proud of you, son.” She gave him a hug.

  He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “But if he dies …”

  “He’s not going to die. The doctor says he’ll be just fine – he has an infection and needs to rest awhile, that’s all.” She wasn’t entirely convinced herself, but she didn’t need to worry her young son over Kurt’s well-being, especially after losing his father. Her eyes sparked with tears.

  “All right, Ma.”

  “It’ll be dark before long. Do you think you could do the chores for Kurt?” She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve.

  “Yes, Ma.” He pulled himself free of her embrace and hurried out toward the barn, wiping his cheeks as he went.

  Holly watched him go and smiled through her tears, thoughts spinning in her head.

  11

  Holly stared out the front window of the cottage, watching Kurt sit on a fallen log a hundred yards from the barn. According to Kurt, the oak had been split in two by a lightning strike years earlier, and half the tree still lay inert on the ground. He sawed a piece off for firewood occasionally, but mostly he liked to sit on it at night and stare up at the stars like he was doing now.

  It was three days since the snake bit him, and he’d recovered just as the doctor said he would. She hadn’t slept a wink that night – staying by his bedside, bathing his forehead with a damp cloth, trying to get him to drink water or willow-bark tea whenever she could. Then at noon the following day, he’d sat up and asked for something to eat. Her relief was instantaneous. Even the children, who’d been tiptoeing around the place while Kurt was ill, broke into shouts and squeals the moment he recovered. It was a happy day.