by Lee Savino
Esther thanked him, privately rolling her eyes.
"It's as if he wished women lived like the djinn, waiting in a lamp for a man to summon her," she told her husband later, when they cuddled together under the stars. "On and on about women knowing their place."
Johnathan chuckled, his fingers sifting through her golden hair. "I'll tell him the truth of it: correct a woman as needed, but otherwise treat her like a queen, and then she will grant you every wish."
Rolling onto her husband's long body, Esther did just that.
The next morning, happy, but still wanting to give the driver a piece of her mind, Esther wandered around the wagon and saw the driver. Approaching, she realized his partner was standing facing away from the wagon, with an arc of golden liquid splashing on the ground.
"Mrs. Shepherd," the driver sputtered, and the standing man automatically started to turn, his breeches still undone.
"Oh, forgive me." She whirled, and hurried to "her" side of the wagon.
When she imparted this story to Johnathan later, he covered his face with his hand.
"I suppose that's what he meant when he said 'women on the left of the wagon.' I thought there were some special goings on the men were keeping me from, as a joke. But no, it was only for privacy."
She glanced at her husband, whose shoulders were shaking.
"Are you all right?"
A second hand covered her husband's face.
"Johnathan. Are you laughing at me?"
"I can't...Esther," Johnathan gasped. "Will you never stop getting into scrapes?"
"No," she said cheerfully. "It is my way. My mother always said my husband would beat it out of me."
"Never, dear cheek, never." He pulled her into his arms. "You are always to keep your silly ways."
*****
But as they neared the second half of Kansas and the end of their journey, Esther wondered more and more what her role on the frontier would be. Was she destined only to be the pretty minister's wife, no more useful than a trophy in a case? What use were all her studies and wide-eyed dreams?
She tried hard to be a good nurse to her husband, but even there her skills were limited. This came home one day when a horse, spooked by a jackrabbit, threw its rider. The man lay moaning as Johnathan examined him. "There's a break in the skin from the bone. We must set it quickly."
Esther offered laudanum to the patient, but the man waved her away.
"He wants whiskey," the wagon master crouched to put a flask to the rider's lips.
Before Esther could argue, her husband drew her up. "Let them be. These men have their own remedies for pain. Besides, we're low on supplies." He looked down at the man groaning on the ground. "We must straighten the leg."
"I'll help." Esther started forward.
"No, Esther. You're not strong enough." Her husband set her aside, and motioned to the wagon master.
Dismissed, Esther hurried away, wincing at the screams of the man behind her.
"You gonna faint?" one of the men asked, seeing her pale face.
Shaking her head, she found a quiet place by the stream, and hid. It would be better if Johnathan had come without her. All she did was wear on his precious stores of food and patience. Here, in a camp full of men, she had as much use as a three-legged mule—less so. At least, with a mule, you can shoot it.
Picking up a rock, she threw it into the pool, and watched the ripples spread.
"I want my life to matter," she whispered.
That night, she woke to pain stabbing her, over and over again just below her stomach. Doubling over, she tried to stifle her moans. Johnathan slept beside her, exhausted from a long day on the trail, and then the work of setting the man's leg.
After a long hour of gritting her teeth, she crawled out of the bedroll and walked, bent over, back to the stream. Her gut was a solid stone of pain, more intense than anything she'd felt before. Even her time of the month wasn't this bad. A week ago, she'd thought she was pregnant, but a few days later sharp cramps and a few spots of blood in her drawers heralded the return of her menses. Other than the spotting, her bleeding hadn't started, but she'd forgotten about it.
Until now.
Forcing herself to drink some water, then walk up and down, she breathed hard against the pain, hoping it would end before dawn came up and her husband found her. Their medicines were low; she did not want to waste them, and knew Johnathan would insist on relieving her pain.
Finally she lay down on a rock, to try to sleep. Her husband found her just after dawn. The cramps still wracked her body, the pain now a growing fire in her belly.
"Esther. Darling, what's wrong?"
Fitful moans escaped her lips, but she couldn't speak.
"Stop the wagons," she heard him cry. "My wife is ill."
"We cannot linger here. Injuns use this water. We've stayed far too long as it is."
Licking her lips, Esther tried to tell her husband to leave her, but her voice came out a wheeze.
"Hang on, Esther," Johnathan said to her. Her dress ripped under his knife, and then his hands moved over her bare skin, checking her body. "You have a fever."
"Hurts. Here."
His hands touched her stomach and the pain nearly drove her off the ground. Johnathan took off his jacket to prop under her head.
"How long?" he asked, face grim.
"Last night."
"Darling, why didn't you wake me?"
Her vision swam, and she forgot to answer. As she shut her eyes, her husband shouted for his medicine bag. She heard men come closer and leave again, and then their shouts above the unmistakable sound of wagons creaking down the trail.
Her husband settled beside her and she grabbed his hand.
"You must go," she croaked.
"I'm not leaving you here, Esther." Frowning, he bent his head to his work.
Pain shot through her, and she cried out, gripping his hand harder.
"Breathe," Johnathan said calmly, though he looked frantic, hair standing up on end.
"You must go on," she said, when the fierce cramp passed. "Your work is too important. I am a burden."
"Esther, how can you think that?"
She shook her head against the pain. "I have nothing to give."
"Not a day has passed that you haven't given everything of yourself. Your love, your passion, your beauty. You give to everyone you meet. You have given everything to me."
A giant cramp shook her, and she felt him lift her into his arms and cradle her.
No, she wanted to say. Leave me. But the fire in her belly roared and everything faded to black.
*****
When she woke again, the pain was gone, shut away behind a wall. She felt it lurking, though, ready to take her. Above her, stars sparkled in a rich night sky.
Her husband leaned over her, trickling a little water into her mouth. "Drink, Esther. The worst has passed. You must hang on for me."
She moved her lips, trying to tell him she would try, but no sound came out.
He bent down and kissed her head. His lips lingered, and she was surprised to feel tears falling on her face.
"You must hold on, Esther. If God takes you, he slays a part of me. The best part." He lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. "Do not leave me."
She faded out of consciousness, still hearing him plead.
"I need you."
*****
Esther opened her eyes to a brilliant sky filled with pink and orange light. Her bed was moving with a slow, creaking motion. Then the wagon inched round a bend and the mountain range came into view.
"We're here," she said in awe.
The driver twisted back. "That's right, ma'am. Them be the Rockies." He gave her a single tooth grin, and she did her best to return it.
"Gave us all a scare. Glad to see you're still with us. Wagon master took most of the train ahead, but we stuck by you. Your husband wouldn't leave your side."
Lying beside her, asleep, Johnathan didn't
stir.
*****
When they arrived at Colorado Springs, Esther was still weak. Her illness was a miscarriage, and with it she'd lost a lot of blood.
"It was never healthy," Johnathan told her. "The babe was outside of your womb, and couldn't survive. The pain was your body flushing it out."
Lying in her sick bed, she reached up and touched his face. "I'm sorry."
"Never apologize for such a thing." He hugged her. "You are alive and well, and that's all that matters." She could tell he wanted to say more, but she closed her eyes and squeezed him back, sighing.
Johnathan took care of her like a baby. The boarding rooms they took were built for the men coming to mine, but as soon as the matron found out about the Reverend's sick wife, she sent quilts and hot compresses to the room, along with teas and broths Johnathan painstakingly spooned into her mouth. Esther enjoyed it for about three days, then grew restless.
"I'm quite well," Esther told him one morning. "I wish to go outside."
"Not yet, my love." Johnathan kissed her. "Another day of rest. Besides, it's been raining these past few days and the streets are filled with mud. You've been unsteady on your feet; I wouldn't want you to turn your heel."
He left that afternoon, and she came out of bed and paced around the room as she did every day to regain her strength.
"This is ridiculous," she finally muttered.
She drew on a dress, noting how thin she'd become. Her husband had not touched her since her illness, and she hoped he might someday find her beautiful again.
Pinching her cheeks to get some color, she descended into the boarding house's main room and stopped. The tables were full of men, all of them staring at her like she was the first woman they'd seen in ten years.
Perhaps she was.
"Good evening," she addressed them. "Does anyone know where I might find a bath house?"
"Try the Bucket." One man pointed a grimy finger out the door. "Across the way."
"Thank you." She nodded as regally as she could, and wove through the room out the door. The streets were muddy, as Johnathan had said, but she found the building easily with a sign announcing hot baths. She hurried to it, and walked straight in, again meeting the shocked glances of a roomful of men.
"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter grunted.
"I am here to see about a bath."
A pause, then half the room burst out laughing.
"Come 'ere, sweetheart." One dirty ruffian leaned towards her, flashing a gold tooth. "I'll bathe you."
"That's quite all right," she said, backing up.
"No, no, I'd like to speak with you," The barkeep said, signaling a beefy man beside the door, who started to come for her. A thick hand reached for her and would've caught her if she hadn't jumped away.
"No thank you, I must be going," she said, just as her back hit a wall. A very solid, but warm wall.
Turning, Esther looked up into the twinkling blue eyes of a tall man blocking her escape. Unlike any of the other men, he was well bathed and shaved, with thick dark hair and the face of an angel. The type of face that would make a woman swoon, even though it heralded trouble.
"What have we here?" He smiled down at her. "A new girl?"
"I'm the Reverend's wife," she blurted, and the man blinked.
Beside him, a shorter man with broad shoulders and reddish brown hair frowned and spoke gruffly. "What's going on?"
"Doyle wants her," the beefy man said.
Immediately the smile fell away from the blue-eyed angel's face, and he looked just as serious as his partner.
"Doyle, let her go," the tall, blue eyed man said.
"I only wanted to speak to her. Little minx came in looking for a bath." The barkeep glared.
For a moment a war went on between the blue-eyed man, and the villain behind the bar. Finally, the saloon owner waved a hand. "Get her out of here."
The tall man took her arm and moved her down the porch, followed by his companion. "Sorry about that. Doyle thinks any woman he sees is his property."
Esther took a deep breath, trying to stop her body from shaking. "Thank you. I'm grateful for the rescue."
At the end of the porch, the blue-eyed man turned to her and swept off his hat, introducing himself with a bow. "Lyle Wilder, at your service. My friend here is Miles Donovan." Lyle nodded to the broad shouldered man. "Can we escort you somewhere?"
"My husband and I have rooms across the way."
Lyle offered his arm with a flourish, and they crossed the street in style, with Donovan silently bringing up the rear.
Back at the inn, Esther was met by the inn matron who had a shotgun pointed at Wilder and Donovan. "You let the lady be."
"They're with me," Esther said.
The gun swung down, but the matron still glared, and Mr. Wilder kept his hands up. "We have no quarrel with you. Just helping the lady cross the street, that's all."
"Esther." Her husband stood at the bottom of the stairs, taking in her mud-spattered dress and pale cheeks.
"Husband," she said, with a little tremor in her voice. Johnathan crossed quickly to put his arm around her and she leaned on him.
"Gentlemen, I must thank you for helping my wife. We're both new to the area."
"No trouble at all." Lyle reached out to shake Johnathan's hand. "Are you the Reverend?"
"I am."
He and his friend exchanged glances, ending with Donovan shaking his head and turning away. Lyle smiled, flashing white teeth. "Do you do weddings?"
*****
A few hours later, Lyle and his friend stood in the Shepherd's room, wearing their finest suits along with differing expressions—Lyle's a broad grin, Miles' a sober look bordering on a frown. A knock on the door, and Esther opened the door to reveal the bride, a petite redhead with creamy skin and an ethereal smile. With the innkeeper's help, Esther had found some white flowers, and gathered them into a sweet bouquet.
When the bride and groom stood beside each other, Johnathan took his place facing them, opening his bible to start the ceremony. The vows were interrupted with a few coughs, and the groom helped his bride with a handkerchief. Esther and her husband shared a worried glance, but the wedding still ended with a joyous proclamation.
After a short supper, the newlyweds left for their own room. Their friend Donovan still lingered.
"Mr. Donovan, do you know the bride well?" Esther asked politely.
"Not so much as Wilder, and he knows her very little."
"How long has she had that cough?" Johnathan asked.
Donovan's hand rubbed the back of his neck. "As long as I can remember."
"I would like to examine her," Johnathan said. "I don't believe she is well."
"Well, I wish you the best in talking them into something so sensible." Donovan shook his head.
"What do you mean?" Esther came to her husband's side and took his hand, facing Mr. Donovan.
"I fear my friend has stars in his eyes. His Mary was one of Doyle's girls," Mr. Donovan said, his hand still worrying the back of his neck. "He thinks he can rescue her. I don't believe it will end well."
Again the Shepherd's shared a look.
Then Esther stepped forward. "Does he love her?"
Miles shrugged. "I suppose."
"Mr. Donovan." She laid her hand on his arm. "Be happy for your friend. Where there is love, there is hope."
*****
When Mr. Donovan left, Esther started for the chaise, only to have her husband catch her hand and turn her to face him. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her, then gave her a look of such supreme tenderness she felt her whole body go weak.
"My dear, you must never say your mission is less than mine. You shine with such a light, and share so liberally with others...your mission is equal, if not greater to mine."
Tears welled up in her eyes. "Johnathan."
"Hush." He touched his lips to hers again. "I will not hear you abuse yourself again. Or else a spanking," he mock th
reatened, until she smiled with watery eyes.
They spent the evening side by side, talking and reading until Esther felt stirred to pace. Finally, she came to stand by her husband, waiting until he looked up.
"What is it, my dear?"
"Aren't you forgetting something, husband? I disobeyed you today and wandered about."
"Yes." He set his book aside and drew her into his lap.
"Why did you go out? You caused me quite a scare."
"I'm sorry. I only wanted a bath. It was to be a surprise."
He shook his head, lips suppressing a smile. "Promise me you'll never do it again."
"I promise." She wriggled in his lap. "Don't I deserve a spanking?"
He sighed. "You've been ill, my dear."
"I feel perfectly well," she pouted.
Lifting her up, he set her on her feet, and rose to his own towering height. "We must go down to dinner," he said, tapping her nose. "I trust you'll be good here on out. Otherwise, next time, you won't sit for a week."
Disappointed, she followed him downstairs, but her night wasn't over yet.
When they returned to the room, a large basin, half filled with water, sat in the middle of the room.
"What's this?" Esther peered at the oversized bucket.
Her husband grinned at her. "Bath time."
She held her hand over the water, watching the steam rise.
"Johnathan..." she said, feeling overwhelmed with his care.
"What are you waiting for? Get undressed and climb in."
She did so, shyly, standing in the shallow bath with her arms crossed over her body.
A knock at the door sent her shrinking back into the shadows, but Johnathan answered it, accepting the newest pot of hot water.
"Come now," he said, stripping down to his drawers. "Time to get you clean. Doctor's orders."
Crouching in the tub, she let him pour warm water over her, murmuring happily as he scrubbed her with a rag. When he came around to her front and started to pry her arms away from her body, she pressed her hands to her chest.