In the worst times, when he’d begged for someone to help him end his life, she’d sung to him and lulled him back to sleep. Every time he’d opened his eyes, her caring face had watched over him like a hawk, ensuring he remained alive.
“I delivered a pair of chairs to the hotel. Made me think I need to make you a new set to replace these.” He studied the older table he’d made for her years earlier. “This one is getting pretty old.”
Mrs. Wilkes’ already large eyes bulged. “Don’t you be comin’ in here talkin’ nonsense about changin’ this or that.” She patted the flat surface. “This table was made with love and I ain’t about to ever get rid of it.”
“I’ve gotten better at making them, Mayme,” he protested, knowing it was useless. He used his term of endearment for the woman. He’d yet to meet a person more stubborn than Eudora Wilkes.
“Well, I’m sure you have, Baby. Eat now.” She pushed a plate piled so high with food some beans plopped onto the tabletop. “How are you feelin’?” She looked him over as if able to see through his clothes.
In Barrett’s opinion, no one could outcook her. He dug into the food, barely taking time between bites to breathe. She knew just as he did, that his wounds were the slow to heal kind. No matter how long after losing a limb, the pain and discomfort persisted. Either blisters from the prosthesis or due to the lack of proper medical care after he’d been injured, pain would always be with him.
His hip and upper leg had been broken and several ribs crushed, the bones never set right. Although he’d made more progress than most would imagine, there were days he wondered why he’d been spared.
“Have you been using the liniment I made?” She pushed a slice of cornbread toward him. “You have to do it regularly or it won’t help.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, head bent over the plate. In truth, he hated using the foul smelling concoction and rarely did. However, she insisted on making a new batch and sending it by regularly.
“Don’t you lie to me, Barrett.” She smacked his upper arm. “Once you finish eatin’, I’ll give you a good rub down. Put you right as rain. I see how you shuffled in here barely able to stand straight.”
He restrained rolling his eyes, not wanting to risk a hit to the side of his head. A smile crept up his lips. As much as he hated the foul smelling stuff Mrs. Wilkes insisted on massaging into his leg and side, after she’d administer it, he would rest without pain for several days.
An hour later, shirtless, he lay back on the same small bed where he’d recovered while Mrs. Wilkes mumbled about how young folks never listened. The crisscrossing scars were something he could barely stand to look at. Although long healed, some remained raised and reddish. Especially one large gash that crossed from below his chest across to the side where his ribs had been exposed.
He liked listening to her voice. It didn’t matter much whether she scolded him or not. The love beneath the surface filled Barrett with warmth he’d never known until meeting her. Now Mrs. Wilkes was the mother figure he’d lacked growing up in a southern plantation home filled with boys, harried housekeepers and a father who spent most of his days working.
“Be still, boy.” Mrs. Wilkes pulled him from his musings as she rubbed the heated ointment into his side. “Lower the side of your britches. You see my hands are greasy. Why do I have to give you the same instructions each time?” She fussed and continued rubbing his aching joints until sometime later he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Get some sleep, Baby. I’ll send Laddie to see about your horse. Old Fella and I will be downstairs sharin’ coffee and some nibbles.”
The light was doused and Barrett slipped down just enough so the blanket would cover him from feet to shoulders.
“Good night.” His soft mumble was followed by a soft snore.
Chapter 5
Christina peered out to the passing landscape attempting to become accustomed to her new surroundings on the train. She was sure Lady Price had paid extra to ensure her a private compartment, which she shared with another woman. Therese, a rather shy schoolmarm headed to Montana, made for an easy companion.
The train shook from side to side, the motion making her stomach queasy and her temples ache.
Therese, a pretty brunette with kind eyes, studied her. "You don't look well at all. I do believe you've caught something."
"Of all the times. I don't need this right now.” Christina sighed and looked out to the corridor. "I'll see about some tea. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, I can find some honey."
Mentally, she counted her money. She'd just enough to live very frugally for a only a short while until she could meet with Judge Withers in Ranchester and get a position helping the school teacher there until she met with her future husband.
If the man did not accept her, she was at a loss about what she'd do. Lady Price had been convinced there wouldn't be a problem, but as the days on the train passed, she became more and more nervous about alternate outcomes.
There were no guarantees, after all. If he'd met someone else or perhaps changed his mind about marrying, Christina would be left without options. Lady Price had insisted all would be fine and that her contact in Montana could come and fetch her if all went awry.
As Christina made her way down the center of the train, she stumbled when two children raced past her in the corridor. Their shrieks of delight at being pursued by an older boy made her smile.
One day, she'd have a family of her own, if things went well. Perhaps a boy and a girl, children she'd raise knowing they were loved and cared for. Her children would be afforded the kind of home life she never had. At the thought, she couldn't help but wonder at her father's reaction to her disappearance. Surely, he would not be overly surprised.
Then again, the man was an egotistical, stingy soul. If anything, he'd consider her ungrateful and see her leaving as traitorous. With a sigh, she approached the restaurant car and requested a pot of tea.
That night, her head pounded so hard that Christina wanted to cry. The scratchy throat and coughing confirmed what Therese had diagnosed. "I'm so sorry, Therese. I hope I don't make you sick."
Her new friend shrugged. "I've been around runny noses most of my life. I rarely get sick. Don't worry, just try to get some rest."
Christina dreaded arriving in Wyoming ill. Not only would being ill make it harder to get around, but also at first impression, she'd come across as a weak, sickly person. Her mind filled with worry, she allowed sleep to claim her. Only sleep could bring her a calming respite from the aching head and throat.
Two days later, they neared the stop where they'd part ways. Therese who’d remain on the train longer, hugged Christina tightly. "Promise to write me. And if things don't progress to your liking, do not hesitate to come to Laurel, Montana. Find a way to get there and I will ensure you have a place to stay."
Tears filled her eyes and Christina blew her already raw nose. "Thank you so much. I am so grateful to have met you. I do promise to write and even if things work out, I will find a way to visit you."
Too tired and weak, Christina was forced to hire a young boy to help carry her bags to the train platform. Once there, she was, again, at a loss as to what to do. People bustled here and there. Greetings and farewells were exchanged as everyone hurried to whatever task was at hand. Much like a flock of birds upon finding a large tree to settle for the night, the train station buzzed with activity and noise.
A harried mother called out to a young man to help while attempting to control her overly excited brood.
Another group spoke loudly in delight rushing to embrace newly arrived passengers. All the while, herding the newcomers along toward a carriage, their voices lifted with excitement.
Overwhelmed, Christina sat on a nearby bench and attempted to get her bearings. Lady Price had insisted she find Judge Withers right away and get settled into the teaching job. However, at the moment, she could barely stand the thought of walking the short distance to the town's main street, much
less search out a specific person.
Sweat beads slid down her back, heat surfaced from within. As she’d suspected, a fever had set in.
Relaxing for a few moments to gather her wits was the best thing to do.
The land surrounding the train station was hilly and vast. For as far as she could see, there was open acreage with groups of trees here and there. The town was large, but in comparison to the surrounding land, it seemed small. Wagons carrying groups of people or piled high commodities rolled by. In between, several men on horseback rode toward and away from town.
Christina let out a sigh. She'd have to hire someone to help carry her trunk to the nearby hotel. The best course of action was to bathe and get some sleep.
After resting, the next morning she’d feel more up to searching out the mayor. It was certain that for today, any attempt to do more than find a place to rest was folly.
With a resigned sigh, she stood and walked closer to the train station box office to search for the young man who'd helped her earlier. Spotting him, she waved him over.
Several boys raced past her to help load the harried woman’s belongings as Christina waited for the young man to finish loading another wagon.
Finally he hurried to her and touched his hat. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"I require help taking my trunk and bag to the nearest hotel please.” She motioned to where her things were.
In a daze, she turned in a full circle. "Where are my things?” Sure there had to be some sort of awful mistake, she rushed back to the area near the bench. "Oh no."
In the distance, the flustered mother and children rode off. The sounds of their shrieks and laughter brought a realization. The family had mistakenly taken her things.
Christina whirled around to face the young man who watched her with wide eyes. "Do you know that family?"
"No, Ma’am. I do believe I overheard they're headed to near Casper."
"What am I going to do now?" The ground seemed to sway and Christina shuffled back to the bench. The only thing she possessed now was her small satchel. There were only a few dollars, a handkerchief and the letter for the judge in it.
Moments later, she headed to the hotel. Thank God she still had Lady Price's letter. Hopefully, she'd be able to get into town and find housing or a small room until her future husband came around.
Her breathing labored from the walk as she refused a ride, no longer having to worry about luggage of any kind.
With a flat front exterior, the hotel looked much like the rest of the buildings, only taller. Instead of a shingle like most of the businesses along the broad main street, the word “Hotel” was spelled out in large, wooden letters above the long, covered porch.
A group of men gathered near the door stopped talking and turned as one to watch her. When she stepped onto the porch, they removed their hats and mumbled greetings as if she had interrupted their conversation on purpose.
She nodded in response, deciding it was best to remain silent and not speak to men she'd not been properly introduced to. Although Lady Price assured her that society in the west had a more relaxed set of rules when it came to etiquette. However, Christina was sure it was not a good idea to begin her introduction to Ranchester by appearing too friendly to men.
Once inside the dim lobby of the hotel, Christina took in the atmosphere. Although somewhat rustic, the hardwood floors were covered with a thick, well-made rug. There was an oversized desk to the front. Behind it, adhered to the wall were cubbyholes with keys. To the right of the desk was a wide archway, through which she could see tables and chairs set in the dining area. There were about ten tables, only a pair with people eating.
The smell of food made her stomach growl. The last meal she'd had was the day before and now it was late afternoon. It was definitely past time to have a meal.
"May I help you, Miss?” A burly man had appeared behind the desk. The balding proprietor leaned forward, taking her in. His gaze traveled from the hem of her dress up to her face. "Are you new in town, Miss?"
Christina neared the desk, her pulse hitching at the familiarity in which he regarded her. It reminded her of the old man she was to have married back in Philadelphia. "Yes. I just arrived on the train. I require a room for two nights, please."
His narrowed eyes moved past her to the doorway. "No companion? Luggage?"
Unsure of how to reply she let out a breath. "I'm afraid someone took my trunk at the train station. I hope to find out more information soon and retrieve it."
"I see.” He didn't seem convinced. "Can you pay for the room?"
At this point, Christina wanted to burst into tears. Anger simmered and she tapped it down. "Yes, Sir. I can pay for two days. I was told the cost and, if you would like, I can pay now. I also require a meal and a hot bath."
"Of course. Yes..." He swallowed and turned to look over his shoulder. "No charge for the meal or the bath."
"I appreciate it," she replied with a flat tone. Her pride commanded she demand to make payment for the items she knew were not covered by the room fee, however, knowing her funds were so very limited, she was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thank you very much."
The man pulled a key and motioned for her to follow. He lumbered up the steps and she followed. They went down a narrow hallway. Upon reaching the last room, he unlocked the door, handed her the key and, after studying her for a moment, spoke.
“Would you like to eat first and have the heated water brought up later?”
“No. If you please, can the water be brought now? If you can have food brought up, I would appreciate it. I am much too exhausted to be presentable.”
The man nodded and left.
Finally alone inside a small, but tidy room, Christina fell against the door and covered her face with both hands. How could luck be so bad that upon arriving, all her belongings were taken? Now she was in dire need of finding Judge Withers as soon as possible.
After a good meal and a warm bath, she'd feel more human. First thing in the morning, if possible, she'd find Judge Withers and ask for his help in filling a teaching position with the local school until the other matters were resolved.
God help her if the man couldn't help. Although Lady Price was sure there wouldn't be a problem, it was hard to be sure now that she'd arrived. The town was rustic and although she'd barely taken time to look around, there were very few people who mingled about. Other than the men outside the hotel, she'd not seen anyone else.
At the thought, Christina hurried to the window. She shoved the curtain aside and leaned forward. Across the street, she saw what looked to be a mercantile, next to a barbershop and then a seamstress shop. She'd come from a side street where she'd noticed an apothecary and some stables. Opening the window wider, she was able to look further to the left side of the main street. There was a saloon and next to it appeared to be a small corral with a few horses.
There were two large homes, one on each end of the street. Another smattering of homes were scattered here and there. She supposed most people lived a good distance from town.
Near one of the larger homes, she spotted the schoolhouse at the end of the street next to a tiny church.
Ranchester, the picturesque town was now to be her new home.
A tear slid down her cheek and she lifted a shaky hand to close the window.
The swift knock at her door announced her hot water and Christina was pulled away from any thoughts of the next day. She busied herself with a warm bath followed by a delicious meal.
Finally settled in bed, her eyelids drooped. No matter how much she tried, it proved impossible to keep her eyes open.
Morning came too soon, the bright sunlight hitting her face through the space between the curtains. Christina didn't move. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was face the raw reality of being alone in a place so far away from anything she knew. It wouldn't do to wake up crying. That was a bad idea for so many reasons. Yet, as wave after wave of emotions slammed into her, t
he tears flowed until her pillow was soaking wet.
"Stop being a ninny and get yourself together," Christina scolded into the empty room. A long stuttered breath, however, followed the proclamation and, once again, she began to cry.
Of all the bad situations to find herself in, she never imagined losing her small amount of belongings and being forced to rely solely on strangers.
Finally, an hour later, she dragged her sore body out of bed. Although the bed was decently comfortable, the long train ride in cramped quarters was not kind to her back and neck. Thankful her fever had broken, she let out a sigh and stretched.
From a pitcher on a stand, she poured out water into a large basin and washed her face and, with the wet cloth, wiped off her teeth. Finally, she brushed her hair and quickly braided it before wrapping the thick mass into a bun and pinned it at the nape of her neck.
She'd saved half of a small loaf of bread from the dinner meal and ate it, washing it down with cold tea, also from the night before. There was a small hearth in the room, but it did not have kindling, wood or anything to light it with. Christina shivered through getting dressed and decided she'd walk to the mercantile later and purchase some muslin and a needle and thread to make a chemise to sleep in.
Outside, the townspeople mingled about. There was a group of four women outside the mercantile, talking, with baskets hanging from their arms. Some baskets were empty and others full with parcels.
Christina was not surprised to learn that under the overhang of the mercantile, sheltered from the wind by the building, was where women gathered to share information or catch up on what happened about town.
A sigh escaped as she wondered if, soon, she'd be part of the group. Her lips curved as one woman waved her arms and pointed toward the hotel. The other three laughed. Hopefully, she'd get to know them, become part of a group of friends and meet regularly when shopping for her home.
A home, a family and friends were a foreign concept, yet at the same time, a dream.
Christina, A Bride for Christmas (Brides for All Seasons Book 6) Page 4