by Lynn Donovan
Nellie gaped down at him, half naked, on one knee. “Oh. Timothy. I-I don’t know what to say. I barely know you. I-I don’t know how to live like you do. I-I—”
In one swift motion, he stood and stopped her words with his lips. Sweetly, tenderly, he kissed her. All the doubt slid out of her mind. She knew in her heart she loved him too. And she was safe in his arms, in his cabin.
She let him kiss her. Lifting her arms to embrace his neck, she kissed him back. Passion exploded between them. She raked her fingers through his long dark hair and pulled him closer into the fervor-filled kiss.
He broke the kiss, staggering back from her, heaving for breath. The cough rose in his throat, and he covered his mouth with a fist. The cough convulsed him into crouching on the floor.
She had forgotten he was so sick! “Lay down! You have got to rest. We can… discuss this when you are well.”
Could it be the fever that scrambled his senses? When he recovers completely, would he still want to confess his love and have her marry him? Somehow she doubted it.
Guiding him by his shoulders, she directed him to the bed and helped him crawl in under the covers. The bed didn’t look wet, but she wanted to fold and have ready the sheets she had washed this morning. She turned from him and pulled the linen from the suspended rope. Folded them neatly as she could, and put them inside the chest. Immediately, she went to the cupboard and thinly sliced some more medicinal root into a cup, added boiled water. He needed more tea. Her tummy growled.
Chastising herself, she needed to pay attention to the time of day, rather than relying on her stomach to tell her when it was time to eat.
What to fix? She remembered the chicken and garlic soup. It had remained warm near the fire. But this time, she’d add vegetables. Timothy had stored root vegetables in the root cellar. Surely she could put them together like he did with the fish and make another soup. Wasn’t soup the best thing for illnesses, and Mrs. Franklin’s garlic soup was the best of all?
She slipped on his coat, and scurried outside. Soon, she came back with her arms full of what she needed.
Happily, she peeled the vegetables and clumsily cut them into bite-size cubes. A few fell on the floor, but she quickly picked them up and dipped them in a bowl of water to wash them off. What he didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. She giggled.
Soon the aroma of chicken, vegetable, and garlic soup filled the cabin. It drew Timothy from his sleep and he leaned up on an elbow. “Mmmm. What smells so good?”
“I made more soup.” She leaned over the cast iron pot and dipped a spoon in the broth. Bringing it to her lips, she sipped it into her mouth. Instantly, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, it’s horrible!” Maybe it wasn’t the memory of killing the chicken that made it taste bad.
“Wait!” Timothy slipped out of bed and padded over to her. “Did you use salt and pepper?”
“No.” She hadn’t thought about seasoning it. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I forgot all about seasonings.”
He laughed and held up two boxes from the general store. Demonstrating how to pour it into the palm for measuring purposes, he let it fall into the soup with a tilt of his hand. She stirred it in and sat back on her heels. “Thank you.”
He kissed her cheek and she turned her face to kiss him on the lips. Their passions unfurled as they both fell back on their bottoms. Nellie laughed as did Timothy.
“You better get back in bed, or you’ll never get well.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going. Don’t be such a nag.”
Nellie froze in place. Was she being a nag? “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
He rushed to her and took hold of her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. “Oh, sweetheart, I was just kidding.”
He hugged her close against the length of him. She was painfully aware he had nothing on his body but his long johns. She stepped back from him and cleared her throat. Whenever she did get back to town, and everybody found out what had happened to her, she would be ruined. Her reputation would be ruined.
But not if he’s serious about marrying her. That will make everything all right. They’ll have to take care of that first thing. Well, second. She needed to let her daddy and momma know she was still alive.
He looked confused. “You’re right. I’ve gotta shake this fever, wet lung, whatever it is I got. I gotta get well so we can go see the reverend in town.”
Nellie froze again. “So… you really do mean it. It’s not just the fever talking? You really want to marry me?”
“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t want a wife as purdy and spirited as you?”
She paused. She could name several, actually.
He turned on his heels and padded back to the bed. “I’m getting in bed. I’m getting well. Let me know when the soup is done cooking. I can’t wait to eat it.”
Done cooking? She suddenly realized she had no idea how long to cook the soup. Adding vegetables to an already cooked soup, surely all she had to wait on was the vegetables to soften. “I-I will.”
The other day, he had said something about the fish soup would be ready when the vegetables softened. She retrieved a two-tined fork and poked at the vegetables. Not yet. She sipped another sample of the broth. “Mmmm.” It tasted good now.
Smiling, she sat in the chair beside the hearth, and for the first time today, she rested. Lord, she was tired. Was this a sampling of her life if she married Timothy?
Of course she wouldn’t be checking his traps. But cleaning and cooking would be like this. In the spring she’d plant a garden and gather the eggs. Right now all those chickens in Grey’s cabin weren’t laying very many, maybe a half a dozen a day, but come spring and summer, they would. How’d she know that? Maybe she’d paid more attention to the townsfolk’s talking than she realized. Now she wished she’d paid even better attention to Cook and the staff.
Something told her Timothy would teach her. He had mentioned a sister-in-law too. Maybe she’d help Nellie with the ins and outs of a more feminine nature when one lived in the seclusion of the mountains.
She let out a resolute sigh and closed her eyes. It felt good to rest a bit. “Timothy?” She exhaled his name.
“Hmm.”
“When can I meet your family?”
He didn’t answer.
She opened one eye and peeked at him through her lashes. His chest rose rhythmically and a soft snore resonated. He had fallen asleep. That was good.
A week passed but it seemed like no time at all. Timothy stayed in bed as much as he could stand to. It was important to him to get well and take Nellie to town to be married. It wasn’t the mountain way, but he knew she needed to return to Belle and let everyone know she was alright. Having a city wedding was the right thing to do, for her.
She worked hard every day and he couldn’t be more proud of her. She made breakfast, lunch, and supper, gradually asking fewer and fewer questions. She checked his traps every morning and evening. One day, she even checked his other trotline and brought the fish home the same way he did when he rescued her: line, hooks, and fish, rolled up and stuffed in the game bag. He laughed when she showed him. Her face indicated how unpleasant it had been to pull the line in. He would need to reset them when he got better.
His love for her grew deeper with each passing day. He couldn’t imagine living in this cabin without her. He hoped and prayed that when he took her back to town, her family and friends wouldn’t talk her out of coming back with him. It was a strong possibility, he knew it was, but he kept telling her how he loved her. She let him steal a kiss every now and then, but he never went any further than that.
He honored her purity and their marriage bed. He wanted to be able to stand before her pa and swear that he didn’t take nothing that weren’t his. She was still pure as the driven snow. Just like when he found her dying in it.
“Miss Nellie.” Timothy rose that morning before her.
“Hmm?” She didn’t move from his coat that had become her bed.
“I’m going
ta Grey’s cabin for a bit. I’m gonna ask you not ta come, on account-a I’m gonna be cleaning up and I’ll be back when I get changed ta clean clothes.”
“Uh huh.” She answered and rolled over.
He went out the door and bathed in the wash basin and changed into clean long johns, a flannel shirt, and fur-lined hide britches. She had his boots by the door. He’d have to put them on when he got back in their cabin.
When he walked in, the smell of coffee, bacon, and biscuits made his mouth water. “Mmm. I thought you would sleep.”
She turned from the skillet with a smile. “I was hungry.”
He sat beside her and ate the breakfast she had made. He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna check my traps today.”
She looked up at him. He hurried to finish what he had to say. “I think I’m well enough.”
She nodded. “Alright.”
He cocked his head back in surprise. That was easy. He expected an argument. “And I’m gonna put out a message for my brothers and their wives to come to dinner.”
Nellie’s eyes went wide as a full moon. “Today? Tonight? Oh, Timothy.” Fear flashed across her face like he had never seen before. Those terror filled eyes dropped down at the clothes he had loaned her. “I don’t have a dress! I don’t know how to cook… for more than you and me! I cannot entertain your brothers and their wives tonight!”
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved off her concern. “You nearly drowned, nearly froze to death, nearly got mauled by a momma bear. They’ll understand! Besides, I’m the youngest and the only bachelor, they always bring food. Lots and lots of food!… and corn mash, and milk—“
Her eyes grew even wider, feral. For the first time in his life, he felt a little afraid of her.
She planted her fists on her hips. “Look! I don’t know nothing about living in the mountains, but entertaining guests, that I know how to do. But not dressed like this! And without Cook!”
He took both her hands into his and spoke as sweetly as he could. “My Sweet Nellie, my family don’t expect nothing like that! We’re simple folk.” He lifted her hand and bent to kiss the back of it.
She jerked it away from his lips. “Sure. But won’t they expect me, the hostess of your… cabin… to provide something!”
He smiled. “How about you make a big batch of them sourdough biscuits like you made yesterday and let them bring the rest.”
She bobbed her head, but she didn’t look satisfied with that single idea. “I’ll go look around in your root cellar. Maybe there’s something down there I can put together. A vegetable medley or—” She looked up at him, a realization that made her whole face brighten. “I know! When I thought I was gonna marry Hoyt Cole, their cook, Missus Franklin, forced me to spend time with her in the kitchen. I wasn’t completely cooperative back then. But I remember she told me, ‘all ya gotta have is flour, sugar, and eggs. With those three things, ya can make a man’s belly happy.” She paced away from him. “If I can just remember what that was!” Fear sparked in her eyes. She grabbed his collar and shot him. “What was it, Timothy?”
“I-I don’t know.”
He took her into his arms held her against his chest. “You can’t do anything about the clothes you got to wear right now, so calm down. It’ll come to ya. We got flour, sugar, and eggs.” He kissed her forehead. Her stiff body seemed to relax in his embrace. “If you think of it, then make it. If you don’t, that’s alright too. But, please, don’t fret so much. It’s just my big brothers and their wives. They won’t think nothing if you don’t make a bunch of food. I never do. They always bring plenty.”
“Yes, but—”
She eyed him intently. Her brow drew together. “What about your momma and daddy?”
He hung his head. “They died last winter.”
“Oh, Timothy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. The way you talk about them, I thought they were just up the mountain, like your brothers.” He could see in her eyes that another question popped into her head,. “How many brothers do you have, anyway?”
“Four.”
“What!” She lifted her eyes to the rafters counting. “That’s ten people crammed in this little cabin!”
He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into another warm embrace. “I told you, I never cook for them, they always bring plenty. And we have a way of fitting. You’ll see.”
“That was just you.” She whimpered. “They’ll expect more out of me, ‘cause I’m… a girl. And I don’t know what I’m doing!” She gasped a short sob.
“Calm down.” He kissed her forehead. “You’ve been cooking just fine for me this past week. I think I’ve put on several pounds.” He pinched his side and laughed.
She slapped his arm. “Oh. Stop. I just want your family to like me and I— most folks— no one in Belle likes me. I don’t know how to be likable.”
“You stop that. I told you, you’re spirited. That’s better than gold in a woman out here. My family will see that… and they’ll love you just like I do.”
Her eyes popped open.
He recanted. “Well, not just like me, but you know what I mean.” He chuckled. “Now, I’ve gotta check those traps and reset some trotlines. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He kissed her cheek.
Her eyes roved over the cabin. That look, he knew. She was gonna clean the cabin from roof-beams to floor and wear herself out. But he also knew there was no stopping her. Maybe keeping busy like that would help settle her nerves about his family coming by. When he got back from setting traps, he’d help her what he could. He’d never cleaned his cabin for his brothers. They may think he’s still running fever! He chuckled to himself.
He had full confidence this supper would go just fine. Only problem might be Matthew’s wife. Since Ma passed, Mary seemed to take over being the superstitious, prejudice matriarch of the family who didn’t trust non-mountain folk. But he wasn’t gonna mention nothing ’til it needed to be mentioned.
Nellie’s attention was already on what she could do to get ready. He’d let her fixate on that while he prepared to get going.
Grey whinnied from her cabin. “I’m coming, Ole Girl. Geesh. You’d think I had me two wives.” He smiled.
Chapter Eight
Timothy followed the cut path that led to his traps, walking the same direction he and Grey had carved through the woods this season. The same way he assumed his mule had taken Nellie while he was down with the fever. He patted her neck as they walked. It felt good to be out of that bed and in the woods. A sense of gratefulness washed over his heart. The mountain had delivered his heart’s greatest wish.
He didn’t know how or why she had been drawn from town into the mountain that evening. Obviously, she wasn’t even aware the mountain called her. Inappropriately dressed in such a fancy city gown, she would have frozen to death even if she had not fallen in the river. No boots, no coat, no britches, the mountain would have taken her soon enough.
But for Timothy’s wish, the mountain had provided.
He had been frustrated that evening, because he was later than usual getting out to check his traps. In the end, it was all part of the eternal plan. His delay led him to her. And having saved her, just in time with wet lung setting in his chest and the fever taking him down. He might have died too, if she hadn’t been there to take care of him and make his ma’s fever tea and that chicken soup. Nellie checked his traps while he couldn’t which saved his season’s hard work and prevented the larger animals from robbing his catch. He would have had to move all his traps to new locations, so the momma bears didn’t hence forth use his traps as feeders. And that would have been impossible this late in the season.
He shook his head as he walked along. Amazed at how things had fallen into place, just as it should be. He could hear his ma’s voice. She’d said it often enough in his lifetime… or her lifetime. Sadness swallowed him for a moment. He wished his ma could have met Miss Nellie. Still, it was surreal, after all this time that he had longed to properly meet t
hat bold little blond girl, and ask her to marry him, now, she was in his cabin. He had proposed. She had accepted.
He just prayed she’d stick to her answer once he took her back to town.
Even though she’d grown up in town and had a city-rich pa, he knew in his heart she was perfectly suited for mountain life. She lived a wealthy life in Belle. That was obvious in her clothes and transportation. Her pa was an important man in town. Her ma was what Mary called a socialite. But Timothy knew the secret that all mountain men knew: mountain folk were richer than city folk. The mountain provided their every need. From their surplus they could go into town and trade for additional supplies and services. They had just what they needed to not only survive, but live a happy life until the mountain took them to what the Bible called heaven.
Timothy knew the closest to heaven was up in the mountains, and when he died, he would go to some other amazing place. Maybe a bigger, even more abundant mountain. That’s what the real heaven had to be.
His thoughts turned to his brothers. He had no way of asking his brothers for help while he had been sick. Were any of them sick, too? Well, he’d know tonight.
He turned north from his traps and walked for a little ways to where he could put a note in the corked crock and hang a red bandana in the tree. Then he took his trapper’s gun and shot three times toward the sky. Birds fluttered and snow fell over his head and shoulders. It was a wasteful sacrifice of bullets, but the signal would alert his next-oldest brother, Stephen, there was an urgent communication. Otherwise he would have just left the note and bandana to be found whenever his brother thought to check for it. The red neckerchief helped Stephen find the crock in the snow.