Surrendered on the Frontier

by Jane Henry

  “Quicker, Samuel,” I hissed as he tugged on a boot. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I dropped my gaze. “All right, all right,” I murmured. He smirked.

  Standing, he stalked over to me and drew me close, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck, the familiar touch I’d come to expect and even crave. “I like wakin’ next to you,” he said low. “I could get used to that, little Ruth. I mean to make that my every day. Now you be a good girl and scoot on out to see if the coast is clear, and I’ll head on home, honey.”

  My belly melted, my head growing light with both excitement and fear.

  His every day? Waking up next to me meant he wanted to make me his.

  I couldn’t dwell on such things.

  I raced to the door and saw Hannah’s was still shut fast.

  “Go, go,” I hissed. “Now.” I gestured for him to go, but he didn’t. He stalked up to me, bent down, and gave me a hard, heated kiss, his hand on the small of my back drawing me close to him. When he was done, he pulled away, spun me around, and landed a hard swat to my backside.

  I glared. “What was that for?”

  “For bossin’ me around, woman,” he said, no trace of a smile on his face. “Do it again, and I’ll warm your pretty little bottom.”

  I exhaled and closed my eyes. I couldn’t control him. He would do what he damn well wanted to, which I both loved and hated with equal vehemence. I nodded. That was when he smiled, because he knew he won. I hmmphed.

  Taking my fingers to his lips, he kissed them before he dropped my hand, walked quickly to the door, and left. He was gone. I lifted my kissed fingers to my cheek, the conflicting emotions surrounding the entire brief morning overwhelming me. Losing Hannah in my dream. My fears leaving me as I woke up next to Samuel, followed by fear again that we would be seen. The mortifying knowledge that Ma would know he spent the night.

  Suddenly nauseous, I sat down hard at the table.

  I had to do something, but I had no idea what.

  Chapter Eight: A Predicament

  I managed to avoid visiting at Samuel’s house for nearly a week, but thankfully still visited with Pearl. When Leroy was still alive, I was so isolated from everyone in our little town that I often felt alone. My self-isolation was little better. I just couldn’t bring myself to look at Ma, knowing that she knew Samuel had been with me. Other folks in town might shun us, or call us out as sinners. The Stanleys kept their own counsel and would do no such thing, but they were still upstanding citizens, and every one of them were of strong moral conviction. I hated the idea of causing any of them scandal. But I also hated being separated from Samuel.

  I went out by the creek, picking blueberries one morning when Hannah was at Pearl’s. I wanted to bake a pie for Pearl and Aaron. I turned quickly when I heard a rustling behind me. It was not the wild animal I’d feared, but rather Ma, holding a sturdy basket with easily quadruple the amount of berries I’d picked. She blinked with surprise when I came into view.

  “Why, hello, Ruth!” she said amiably. “I was just thinking about you. Whatever are you doing out here alone?”

  “Same as you,” I said with a laugh. “Picking berries.”

  “Well, I’m not alone though,” Ma said with a twinkle in her eye. Samuel stepped from behind a bush then, and I started.

  He bowed his head and tipped his hat to me. “Ruth,” he said.

  I nodded back. “Samuel.”

  Suddenly I felt awkward and uncomfortable, as silence fell between all of us. Samuel, however, did not appear awkward at all as he bent and kissed my cheek, then lifted the heavy basket from my hand.

  “I can carry my own basket,” I protested. He merely pursed his lips and raised a brow. Suddenly, I felt a pang of nausea hit my stomach, and I staggered a bit.

  “You all right?” Samuel asked.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I just felt a little queasy.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?” he asked. “Had enough water?”

  I put a hand to my brow and closed my eyes, trying to remember as the nausea hit again, stronger this time, causing me to lose my footing. “I had a slice of bread this morning, and… mmm… no. No water.” I opened my eyes as I tried to steady myself.

  His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “We were just takin’ a break, ain’t we, Ma?”

  She nodded, and I followed them, holding onto Samuel’s arm as he led us to a shady tree. The days had grown warm as of late, and the heat made me feel even worse. I’d been wearing my bonnet to shade my face, and now it fell off, hanging about my neck by the strings, no longer protecting me from the heat of the sun. Samuel gripped my elbow and sat me down by a log, where a lunch pail was waiting in the shade.

  “You’ll join us for some dinner, Ruth?” Ma asked. Since Hannah would eat with Pearl, I had no need to return home to eat.

  I nodded. “Thank you,” I said, as another wave of nausea rolled over my stomach. My skin felt clammy, but I tried my best to pretend I was fine. I took a slice of cheese Ma handed me, but the tangy, creamy taste had my stomach rolling. I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t feel good.”

  “Likely you don’t feel good because you haven’t eaten,” Samuel admonished, but Ma shook her head.

  “Maybe. But it could just be that the heat is getting to be too much. It’s not easy being out in the sun with these layers of clothing on, with the bonnets keeping the heat on our masses of hair.”

  Her words ran together as the world spun around me. I closed my eyes.

  “I’ve got to get her back,” Samuel said, standing up. “We’ve our wagon, Ruth. Come with me.”

  It felt nice not to have to think, to just know that if I followed him, he’d take care of me. I opened my eyes as my stomach heaved, the ground feeling unsteady under my feet. He bent and put an arm about my back, practically carrying me to the wagon. I felt a bit better as I sat, and I nibbled on a dry biscuit Ma had shoved into my hand.

  I lifted my chin, but a wave of nausea hit my stomach again. I moaned.

  Samuel’s eyes grow concerned, and he frowned as he lifted the reins. “You all right, honey?” he asked with concern.

  I shrugged. “I likely will be,” I said. “I just got dizzy and my stomach was queasy. I’ll get some water and food and will likely be just fine.” We drove along the dirt road, the wagon jostling in a way that made my stomach roll harder. I did my best to clamp my mouth shut and close my eyes as he drove, trying to maintain my composure so I wasn’t sick on the road.

  Samuel’s hand flexed on my shoulder. “When we get you home, you need to lie down,” he instructed. I did not put up my usual protest. I wanted nothing more than to lie down on a cool blanket in a place that didn’t bump and jostle my insides.

  Finally, I heard him pull up the reins and stop the wagon, before I heard his feet hit the ground and walk to my side. Though my eyes were closed, the sounds were familiar enough that it didn’t surprise me at all when I felt his hand on my elbow.

  “Come here, honey,” he said gently. “You’ll have to stand, then lean on me.”

  I slowly opened my eyes, surprised at how bright the sun looked, and how the brightness made my stomach twist. I took his hand obediently, allowing him to help me down. I offered no protest as he quickly bent and scooped me up. I loved being held by him, and at the moment, nothing felt sweeter than his arms around my body. My head fell limply to his shoulder and my arms loosely encircled his neck.

  “Poor girl,” he murmured. “Let’s get you to bed, now.”

  I heard the sound of the cabin door swinging open, and Samuel’s firm footsteps upon the floor as he walked me to my room. He laid me gently in bed. My head fell to the pillow. I felt his fingers at my neck, unfastening my bonnet, slowly undoing the tie, then gently lifting my head to remove it. When he’d removed that, next he moved on to my feet, and I felt him slowly undoing my boots, removing them, each one clunking to the floor.

  “Sit up, honey,” he whispered. I tried to obey but it fel
t impossible. Strong arms lifted me, the buttons of my dress coming undone one at a time, then he shimmied it up and over my head.

  “Good thing you have some experience helping me undress,” I whispered.

  His response was a low chuckle. “Good thing Ma’s still out by the wagon,” he said. “You’d likely regret saying that otherwise, when you come to your senses later.”

  My stockings were stripped, and it felt delicious wearing nothing but my thin cotton chemise on the cool of the bed. I didn’t know what he was talking about, something about regret, and though it took a great effort to speak again, I had to tell him. “There’s nothing I regret about me and you, Samuel,” I said. My words seemed strangely heavy and slurred. “Nothing I regret.”

  “Hush, honey. You rest now,” he said.

  “Nothing I regret,” I murmured again.

  His mouth came to my ear and he whispered, “Good girl. That’s my good girl. Now you be quiet and get some rest. Will you be a good girl and get some rest now?” I felt his hand come to my head, smoothing my hair back. I sighed. It felt so nice.

  “Yes, sir,” I murmured, and it took every last bit of energy I had. Darkness and heaviness descended. Reality blended with the dark, and I fell asleep.

  * * *

  When I woke the next morning with the light of day, at first I felt better. My head no longer hurt, and I felt stronger, no more dizziness. I stretched my arms up over my head and sat up quickly, but the minute I sat up, the wave of nausea hit me again. I looked about for Samuel, but he wasn’t there of course. I fell back against the bed, lying against the bedclothes, willing the nausea to go away. I had chores to do. Someone needed to set the bread to rising, mop the floor, and bake. Someone needed to make sure Hannah was all set for school, her hair braided neatly, and her little lunch pail packed and ready. I groaned to myself. I hated that I was still sick.

  Why was I sick?

  It hit me all at once, and when realization hit, I felt a chill creep over me. The hair on my arms stood up on end. I felt my heart hammering in my chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if somehow ignoring the reality made it all go away. I placed one hand flat against my stomach.

  Maybe I wasn’t sick. Maybe there was another reason for my nausea. I thought of the time frame, and with a sick realization knew then that it was entirely possible that my fears could be true.

  Maybe my nights of passion with Samuel had led to something else.

  I needed to do something. I needed to talk to him. I could lie there in bed, fighting the nausea, worrying so about not being able to clean, or garden, or cook, or I could deal with the fact that my reckless behavior may have resulted in a very serious consequence.

  Samuel’s baby.

  The knowledge both thrilled and terrified me. What would his family think? I covered my face with my hands. What would he think?

  I had to go to him. I needed to talk to him. He needed to know.

  Ignoring the waves of sickness that overwhelmed me, I moved to go outside. I needed something cool to drink, and I needed to get out of the stuffy cabin. As I pushed through the door, the nausea overwhelmed me so badly I raced outside. Bending over a small bush outside our door, I was promptly sick. I felt better for a moment, though I was sure that if I could find a looking glass, I’d find myself looking limp and rather green. I needed to get to the water now, and today, I would have to fetch it by the well. I looked around, hoping to see Samuel, but there was no one about of course. I knew he’d have to get back to his own place. I felt a pang of regret at the distance between us.

  I mean to make this my every day.

  Part of me wished it already was.

  It was barely daylight, and I sat next to our well, enjoying the cool morning air and the quiet, now that my nausea had abated. I filled my bucket and cupped my hands in the depths, trickling water into my mouth, and running my damp fingers along my neck. I felt momentarily better.

  A baby. I thought about it. The nausea and fatigue were exactly like what I’d experienced before, when I had been expecting Hannah. What would it be like, having a child after all these years? I placed a tentative hand on my stomach and wondered.

  I could no longer wait for Samuel to come on his own to me. I needed to go to him.

  I hefted my bucket of water and walked quickly, placing it outside our door. I still had plenty of time before I had to go tend to Hannah. There was time to cross town and walk over to the Stanleys before the day began. The nausea still swept over me, and a few times I had to stop, though I was able to maintain my composure for a good part of the journey. I enjoyed the walk alone, the early morning sun rising as I made my way toward the Stanley house.

  I knew Samuel would be none too pleased that I’d walked alone, and likely unhappy I’d even gotten out of bed. The last time I’d been at Ma’s, Aaron had been telling everyone what he’d heard about the crew of men coming to town. We were a busy town, with the fur traders, and now more and more workers for the stagecoach, a new but rapidly growing business in Fort Hall. Many still traveled west, arriving at our place and deciding to travel no further. It meant our town was prospering. But it also meant new townfolk arrived daily, and unknown travelers posed a risk.

  Samuel didn’t even like me to fetch water from the creek alone. He’d be fit to be tied if he knew I was traveling across town alone. But I didn’t care. I could defend myself, and I needed to see him. I walked as quickly as I could, and the brisk morning air seemed to quell my sickness for a bit.

  When I arrived at the Stanleys, I slowed my steps. How would I fetch Samuel if he was still abed? I looked around their quiet homestead, at the stack of wood nearby, and the rows of crops. It was neat and clean, well-maintained, and it did my heart good. Hard workers lived here, and I appreciated that about them.

  I tiptoed to the barn, and heard stirring within. I wasn’t sure if it was the livestock or one of the Stanleys, so I peeked in as quietly as I could.

  Samuel sat on a milk stool, his large frame hunched over on the small wooden stool. It was the same stool he’d sat on the day he threw me into the loft. My heart fluttered to watch him, his large hands working quickly and efficiently. The cow he was milking stirred, and he placed one large hand on her flank, murmuring something low. She stilled. I swallowed. He wouldn’t be so calm when he knew I’d crossed town alone.

  I stepped into the barn, hay crunching under my feet, and he looked up at me in surprise, his eyes widening.

  “Ruth, what on earth?” he said. He got to his feet. “Is everything okay?”

  I planned on being brave. I truly did. I lifted my chin and opened my mouth to talk. I had felt strong and courageous when walking along toward him, determined to defend myself if any danger came my way. But now, standing in front of him, with him towering over me, and his deep, steady voice traveling the short distance between us, my bravado failed. I opened my mouth to speak, but I felt my throat constrict, and no words came out. I shook my head.

  He crossed over to me and put his arms around me, drawing me closer to him. “What is it, Ruth? You’re still sick, honey. You should be in bed. What brings you all the way here? I’d have come to you just as soon as I was done here.”

  I closed my eyes, only trusting myself to whisper, my voice wavering. “Samuel…” I swallowed. I couldn’t continue.

  He ran one hand along the back of my head and pulled me to his chest. “Tell me, honey,” he said. “Listen now, Ruth. Whatever it is, it’ll be all right. Now tell me.”

  And I knew then that it would be. We weren’t crazy young children, and he was a good man, the best man, the one I could trust above all others. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “I don’t think I’m sick,” I whispered. He looked confused, shaking his head, but as I continued, he stilled. My voice still in a whisper, I said, “I think I may be with child, Samuel.”

  His eyes widened, and then a slow smile crept along his face. “Do you, now?” he whispered. His hand traveled to my belly, warm and stead
y, the breadth of his hand nearly covering my entire stomach. “A baby? Do you know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t,” I whispered. “But I’m… late. And I wonder if being so tired and sick-feeling isn’t related. We… well, it’s certainly possible.”

  He grinned, lifting my chin with one of his fingers, and he kissed me. I didn’t realize until his lips met mine how much I’d missed being held by him. He felt so strong and manly, and my insides melted as his hands spanned my waist with his mouth upon mine. When he pulled away, his eyes were glowing.

  He didn’t seem concerned at all. Wasn’t he afraid of what people would say? What our future held? What would we do?

  “When will you know?” he asked. “For sure?”

  “Oh, another week or so,” I said. “And I really don’t know yet. I just know that I feel tired and sick, and I felt like that when I was expecting Hannah.”

  He nodded, and suddenly he sobered, as if he just realized I was standing in front of him in his barn. “Ruth, tell me you didn’t walk across town to come here and tell me. It’s bad enough you made that trip alone sick, but now thinkin’ you could be with child—”

  I swallowed and shifted nervously. “Well, I… had to speak to you,” I began.

  He made a low sound halfway between a groan and a growl. “What am I goin’ to do with you, woman?” he asked. “If you hadn’t just told me now that you could be with child, I’d take you straight across my knee and give you a lickin’ you’d remember. You wouldn’t sit for a week. How could you? Don’t you know the dangers you faced?”

  “I had to see you. I was prepared to face the dangers!” I protested, my heart thumping at both the threat of a spanking and the necessity of making him see my reasoning.

  “Prepared to face them?” he asked incredulously. “Prepared to handle a passel of strange men who’d have their way with you? Prepared to handle the savages that roam the plains? Prepared to deal with a hungry she-bear or wildcat?” He paused. “Prepared to deal with me?”