by Zina Abbott
As she pressed her newly-freed hand to her chest and rubbed her sore wrist, Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief. Please, oh, please. Don’t let Nathan Price be anything like his brother.
The parson cleared his throat. “Could we please take this dispute outside? This is the Lord’s house.”
“Of course, pastor.” His congenial voice not matching the annoyed expression he directed toward Herbert, Royce nodded to the reverend. “I apologize for this. I believe it would be better if we sign the marriage journal in your office.”
Dahlia held back as she watched Royce gesture to Herbert to leave first while he followed close behind. She then walked out of the building with Lizett, grateful to breathe in the icy, but fresh, outdoor air and put some distance between her and Herbert Price—the man she suspected was an opportunist and definitely not someone to be trusted.
Soon, the register was signed. After, they returned outside and proceeded toward the surrey that would take them to the dispensary where she would see for the first time the man who was now her husband. Dahlia could not help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.
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Chapter 13
~o0o~
U nlike their ride to the church where Lizett rode up front with Royce, he helped both women into the back seat. As he climbed into the front seat, Royce turned to Herbert who stood off to the side. “You coming with us, Mr. Price?”
Wondering if her new brother-in-law had expected to sit next to her, Dahlia watched Herbert glower at her and Lizett in the rear. He next glared at the vacant seat in front. She could tell the moment it occurred to him that accepting a ride meant sitting next to his boss.
Herbert shook his head. “I’ll walk.”
Dahlia braced herself to prevent her head from snapping back as Royce immediately slapped the ribbons on the horse’s rump, which signaled the horses into a brisk trot. Having not been able to see much of the town due to the weather, she looked around to take in the details of her new home.
Royce turned in front of the Howard Boarding House where she and Lizett were staying but continued past it down the part of the street she had yet to see. He twisted in his seat to speak with her. “We will come back by the mercantile later. The Brinks agreed to open for a short time so you can get the supplies you need. I already made arrangements regarding a line of credit with them. I sent one of my men to see if your trunks have been delivered to the depot. If they haven’t, a certain railroad foreman and I are going to have words. I also told my man to start a fire in your stove so it would be warm enough to move Nathan over there before long.”
Dahlia turned to Royce and offered her first genuine smile of the day. “Thank you.” She continued to study the buildings on the street. Some stood vacant; some contained businesses in which she would eventually like to shop.
Royce continued his travelogue. “The building on the corner to the left is our bank and is owned by the mayor. The houses across the street, which is River Road, back up to the river. They are some of the finer dwellings in Jubilee Springs. However, if you are unescorted, you do not want to walk past the bank if you plan to go to the railroad terminal. Up here on the left, past the bank, is the Corner Saloon. Ahead, and to the right, is the sawmill. Ahead, to the left, is the depot and the railyard. The sheriff’s office is across from the train depot and on the other side of the saloon, but beyond him are the businesses that cater to the workmen of these industries, including the miners who work for me. I would advise you against walking past them alone.”
As they reached the corner, Royce pointed to the bridge off to the right. “Mrs. Price, never use that bridge to cross the river. It is the way we brought you in from the train, but the only thing in that direction is the mine, the single miners’ boarding house, and services for the miners. I’ll show you the bridge you will cross to reach your new home shortly. We use that same bridge to reach my office and the dispensary.”
Dahlia began to feel like, with so many places she dared not go, perhaps Jubilee Springs was not that safe of a town. However, she kept her thoughts to herself as Royce pointed out the River Valley Inn—the hotel with the fanciest restaurant in town—the wheelwright and mechanics shop, and the livery. Ahead, she saw a two-story brick building that looked suspiciously like a school. She had yet to see children in town, but evidently enough families with children lived in the area to support a school.
As soon as they turned right, Dahlia saw the other bridge that crossed the river. Just beyond it were the railroad tracks. She knew from the talk in the boarding house that the tracks crossed the river into Jubilee Springs and passed the sawmill before it reached the depot. The railroad maintenance building was situated on the opposite side of the tracks from the passenger terminal. In the center of the north part of town, the rails then angled across the river once more as it headed west so it could pick up ore from the Prosperity Mine.
She turned her attention from studying the railroad buildings to Royce.
“First, Mrs. Price, I want to stop by your new house to give you a short tour. It’s the one almost straight ahead but slightly off to the left.” After the surrey clattered over the bridge and then eased over the tracks with its rails and ties embedded in rock to even out the crossing for wagons and sleighs, he pointed to the first house on the left. “That’s Harold Calloway’s place. His wife, Catherine, is very friendly. She’ll probably be one of the first to stop by to welcome you.”
For some reason, Dahlia felt a wave of sadness. She wished Kate could be the first to welcome her, but Kate would not be moving into the neighborhood for another week. “Do you know which house Mr. O’Hare and his wife will live in?”
Royce jerked his thumb to the right. “Far house on the end, just before the married mine housing ends. This one here…” Royce nodded his head as he indicated the vacant house to her immediate right. “That one goes to Mr. Turner. Unfortunately, he’s had even more trouble than Nathan Price finding the right wife.”
Without skipping a beat, he pointed to the house ahead and to the right. “Declan McNeill lives there. He’s one of my crew managers. His wife, Aurelia, is from high society, but seems nice enough. You go straight to Declan if you have any trouble with any of the single miners wandering through here. They know they have no business being in this neighborhood unless they are specifically invited by one of the married miners who lives here.”
Royce pointed to the house left of the one assigned to Nathan and her. “Aaron Brinks, whose folks own the mercantile in town, lives on the other side of you. While Nathan’s still down, he can help you if you need anything from the store and can’t get away. Andrea Brinks is kind of quiet, especially in a crowd, but I hear she’s friendly one-on-one with other women. I’m sure she’ll be willing to help.”
As they pulled up to the front of her new house, Dahlia realized she now knew a few things about her near neighbors. The one person she still did not know much about, except what he wrote in his letters, was the man whose last name she now bore—her husband, Nathan Price—married to her without his knowledge because he lay in a coma somewhere on this side of the river.
With difficulty, since the snow in this neighborhood was not packed down like it had been in town, Royce pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the long, narrow house that was hers—for now. It looked vacant except for a thin ribbon of smoke at the back of the house, streaming its way skyward. Dahlia waited until he helped both her and Lizett step out, and then she followed the pair. Lizett’s hand securely rested on Royce’s arm as he led them up a path to the small front porch. He pushed the door open to reveal a front room with a cold fireplace, a few pieces of furniture, and no lights. If Royce’s worker did start a fire, it was not in this room.
Once she spotted her two trunks sitting in the middle of the floor, relief flooded Dahlia. They were a more welcome site to her than flames dancing in the fireplace would have been.
Dahlia followed
Royce as he gestured toward the open doorway. “Let’s try the kitchen. The stove would be the most logical place to build a fire to heat the bedroom.”
Dahlia’s steps slowed as she studied what appeared to be the bedroom—the middle room in the house—lit only by the winter light that entered the windows. Other than an iron bedstead with a mattress and a chest of drawers, there was not much to it. This, no doubt, would be where they would bring Nathan. She must make up this bed and get the room warmed before he arrived.
She next entered the kitchen, where she immediately felt heat radiate from a cast iron stove. She walked closer to study it. It appeared to be an excellent cooking unit, complete with water reservoir, warming shelf, and an oven. A bucket full of coal sat next to it.
Her gaze next turned to the rest of the kitchen, with its indoor pump by the sink and a drainboard, an icebox, and a small table with two chairs. She bit her lower lip. No storage cabinets. She would need to stack her food and cooking supplies somewhere until she could afford to have shelves built or purchase a small cupboard for them.
“Dahlia, look here. This will be nice, especially in winter.”
Dahlia followed the sound of Lizett’s voice. She looked around the small room on the back corner of the kitchen. It held a wash tub, which she guessed could be used for both laundry and bathing. She turned to Lizett. “Yes, it will be helpful. My experience with nursing an invalid is they can create a lot of laundry. It’s nice to know I can do my washing indoors instead of being at the mercy of the weather.”
The back door stood open, and Dahlia stepped out on the back porch. She looked to the far corner of the house where Royce spotted, his arms akimbo, as he studied a pile of coal.
“I told Herbert his contribution for caring for his brother was to buy enough coal to last for a month. There’s not enough here to heat a chicken coop for a week.”
Dahlia glanced at the pile and swallowed. She knew then she must carefully budget the money at her disposal to save toward buying more coal or wood within a couple of weeks. One thing she could not allow was for Nathan to get chilled. An illness might seriously compromise his recovery, just as her father’s repeated bouts of pneumonia led him to death’s door more than once before the illness finally claimed him.
Royce gestured for her to reenter the house. “I have some men lined up to bring your husband over in a wagon on runners, since the snow is piled higher on this side of the river unlike how it is in town. Before they do that, I’ll get the horses and surrey turned around so we can get you to the mercantile to buy enough supplies to last you a few weeks. Then I’ll return you here. I’ll have my men pick up your supplies and deliver them, then bring Nathan over.”
Dahlia nodded. It would give the stove time to warm the house more, plus she could get the bed prepared. Still feeling cast adrift since she had not settled into her home, she followed Royce as he led her and Lizett back through the house and out the front door to the surrey. On her way out, Dahlia shut the door between the bedroom and the living room. To conserve fuel, she decided not to heat that front area.
The three stopped next at the mercantile. There, Dahlia met Desi Brinks.
Desi started by slapping her hand on a pile of cloth items on the counter. A collection of bottles and cans sat next to it.
“I’m happy to meet you, Mrs. Price, although I wish it was under better circumstances. I already gathered some things I thought you might need for your new house.”
Dahlia stared at the pile of folded cloth. “I brought most of my own house linens in one of my trunks. I don’t know how much of what you have here I’ll need. With our situation being as it is, I don’t want to charge any more than I have to.”
Desi stepped forward and rested a hand on Dahlia’s forearm. Dahlia studied the kindly look on Desi’s face as she spoke.
“My guess is these are items you’ve spent hours hemming and embroidering on. You don’t want them ruined using them for an injured man who might get blood and other stains on them. I would suggest you take the one set of sheets I included. Consider them a wedding gift from us.”
Dahlia suppressed the grimace that threatened. She hated the thought of accepting charity given in the guise of a practical wedding gift. However, Mrs. Brinks was right about one thing. Although his bodily functions would be slowed due to being immobilized by his injury, Nathan Price still needed to be fed as much water and broth as she could get down him. What waste he did not perspire out would still be expelled. She would take the extra set of sheets.
Dahlia focused once more. “Also, I need a rubber sheet or some waxed cotton to put beneath him.”
Desi nodded. “I have a rubber sheet for you. You might want some towels or bath sheets to go on top. I also have some white flannel fabric at a good price that you can use for other things once he is doing better.”
Dahlia ended up buying several yards each of both white flannel and white muslin along with everything else she could think she might need. Her food staples included a few potatoes, flour, sugar, and beans, although she knew she soon needed to purchase at least part of a chicken or a beef roast to make broth to help keep Nathan hydrated and provide some nutrition.
As she carefully chose a few cans of vegetables and fruits, she recalled with longing all the bottles of garden and tree produce she had put up back in Kansas in recent months—mostly by herself while Jenny claimed fatigue and morning sickness. All she had wrapped carefully and brought with her were two small jars of plum jam. What she would give to have some of the food she bottled here instead of needing to choose from the selection of canned goods.
Royce discussed the financial situation with Mrs. Brinks, and Desi assured her that Nathan had a line of credit she could draw from until he was again able to work and could pay it off.
The three of them returned in the surrey for the ride home. When Royce suggested to Lizett that he escort her back to the boarding house and join her later after Nathan was settled in, Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief. Dahlia still did not know how Lizett would react to Nathan’s injuries the first time she saw him, but she suspected doing so would distress Lizett to no end. She would rather not find herself dealing with two unconscious patients.
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Chapter 14
~o0o~
W hile she waited for the wagon containing her supplies, Dahlia started unpacking her chests. As she searched for her everyday work dresses and unmentionables to transfer them to the bedroom chest of drawers or hang on clothes hooks, her fingers brushed the lovely pink gown with its lace overskirt she had intended to wear for her wedding. She studied her front window while she fingered the lace. She would remove the lace and use it to make a sheer curtain to face the street. But not yet. She must stay hopeful that the man she married by proxy would recover and she could wear the gown with the lace when they reaffirmed their vows.
As for the chests themselves, with their flat tops, she decided they would serve as end tables for the settee rather than take up space in the bedroom.
Dahlia no sooner put her clothes away in the bedroom than she heard the wagon out front. She donned her cape and rushed through the cold front room to greet whoever brought her order from the mercantile. She cringed at the thought that she would need to clean snow and mud off the floor once the men left. She chose to be grateful they had been willing to help on a Sunday. Soon, her dry goods were stacked in the front room, and her food in a corner or on the table in the kitchen.
“My wife, Andrea, said she will make you a pot of chicken broth and bring it over tomorrow. You need anything from the mercantile, tell her, and we’ll get it for you.”
Smiling, Dahlia turned to the man who had introduced himself as Aaron Brinks, the son of the mercantile owners. “Thank you so much for your offer, Mr. Brinks. I have yet to see Mr. Price, but I imagine from what I’ve been told, it will be a while before I’ll be able to leave him to see to basic shopping.”
Another man, named Harold, introduced himself. “Don’t be surprised if Cat comes with her. My wife and Andrea went to church together back in Kansas, but they became especially good friends once Cat helped her sign up with the bridal agency. They came out together. We live right across the street. You call on us if you need any help.”
Dahlia turned to the big man. “Thank you, I will. In fact, I don’t know if Mr. Bainbridge said anything, but I might ask for help from a few of you for just a few minutes a day. I don’t know how large of a man Nathan is, but when his injuries allow, I might need assistance turning him, probably once in the morning on your way to work, and once in the evening after work. It’s to prevent bed sores. I only need one man at a time for this, but I would ask that the man bring his wife with him for propriety’s sake.”
Aaron turned to Harold. As their gazes met, Dahlia suspected an understanding passed between them.
Aaron faced her once more. “He said something about you needing help with Nathan, but he said you’d explain it. We’ll be sure Declan, one of the crew managers, knows. He and his wife, Rilla, have the house on the east side of you. Knowing him, he’ll organize the men who live here so you’ll get a chance to meet all your new neighbors and receive the help you need.”
Aaron turned to Harold once more. “Do you think you and Cat can come in the morning? I’ll come in the evening. That will give Andrea enough time to get her chicken broth together so I can carry it over for her.”
The men left to bring Dahlia the most precious cargo of the day—her new husband.
Once the wagon returned, Dahlia opened her front door to admit the four men carrying the litter that held Nathan. She studied the bandages that swathed the left side of his head. She noted the swelling in the back from his neck up. Although she suspected it had gone down since the first day of his accident, some inflammation remained. Perhaps that prevented his return to consciousness. She grimaced at the sight of the cuts and bruises on the skin not covered by bandages. The post that fell on him might have hit him from behind, but it must have pushed him against the rough surface of the walls of the mine.