Beloved Hope (Heart of the Frontier Book #2)

by Tracie Peterson

  “March tenth. How about you?” She had wondered about this since she and Grace first discussed having a celebration for Edward.

  “September fifteenth.”

  “Mine’s September twenty-second,” Mercy offered from Lance’s right.

  The children all piped up to announce their birthdays as well.

  Hope committed the date of Lance’s birthday to memory. Perhaps she could talk Grace into throwing a party for him too. After all, Lance really had no one in Oregon City to care about him but Hope and her family.

  After cake, the boys went outside to play while Edward and Lance played a game of checkers. Mina and Grace sat near the fireplace, talking. Mina gave some baby clothes to Grace, and they were giggling as they held them up and talked about the baby. Hope watched from afar while they spoke. She felt a twinge of sadness, remembering her own pregnancy. There had been no laughter and sharing of baby clothes. There had been very little discussion on the matter, given her condition and how she’d gotten that way. Unable to keep watching, Hope finally slipped outside, praying that no one noticed.

  The day was beautiful. The sun was warm on her face and the breeze gentle. Off in the large fenced acreage, the sheep casually grazed. It seemed everything was right with the world.

  “Except for me.” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud and quickly looked around to make sure no one had overheard. No one had. Uncle Edward’s boys were busy playing tag near the barn, much to the frustration of little Thomas, who found himself constantly “it.” They dodged in and out of a dozen or so hens that clucked in protest.

  Hope smiled. Oh, to be young and free of cares. The world seemed so much nicer when she’d been a little girl. She leaned against the split rail fence.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  She jumped. She hadn’t heard nor seen Lance approach.

  “How did you manage to sneak up on me?”

  He shrugged with a smile. “My secret. Had to learn to be quiet when I was fighting the Mexicans and Indians.”

  “You’re certainly good at it.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you a start. I assure you it wasn’t my intention.”

  “I believe you.” She felt her heart slowing to a normal pace.

  Lance eased back against the fence post. “How about telling me what you were just thinking about? You looked . . . well, not quite sad, but almost.”

  Hope shook her head. “No, not really. I was just watching the boys play and remembering how simple life was when I was a little girl. I never felt afraid. My da was the biggest man in the world—or so I thought—and I never feared anyone when he was around.”

  “Are you afraid now?” His voice was soft . . . tender.

  Hope trembled but would never admit her fear to him, because right now her fear was . . . of him. Not of what he might do to her, but rather of how she felt when he was nearby.

  “Why should I be afraid now?” She shook her head. “It’s a beautiful day, and everything is calm and peaceful. Even the sheep are happy. See how they graze without worry?” She turned toward the pasture.

  “You’re a terrible liar. You know that, don’t you?”

  Hope squared her shoulders and turned back to look him in the eye. She was set to tell him he was wrong, but he raised a single brow and grinned as if daring her to deny the truth of what he’d said.

  The words stuck in her throat, and for a minute Hope could only gaze into his eyes. Finally, a loud shout of protest from little Thomas shattered the silence, and Hope took a step back as the boys came racing past them.

  She decided not to give Lance the satisfaction of answering and began to walk toward the house. This only caused Lance to chuckle and follow her.

  “Some folks just can’t stand the truth.”

  Chapter

  15

  August brought the full warmth of summer and days of sunshine. Hope enjoyed the warmth as she washed the last of the wool. She had spent many an hour washing, dyeing, and carefully arranging the wool to dry. As the colder, wet weather would soon be upon them, she wanted to have the wool ready for carding—something she could do indoors throughout the winter. For weeks she had worked on spinning yarn in light yellow and green as well as powder blue and pink. There was also an abundance of white, and all of it met with Grace’s approval. Together, Grace and Mercy were spending their evening hours either knitting or sewing for the baby.

  Grace had started to show, so most of their friends in town knew the truth of her condition. It was happy news to all, but Hope knew that Alex’s absence weighed heavily on her sister. The joy of her pregnancy was tainted by the worry she held for her husband. There had been no word from him, and while Hope knew that Grace hadn’t anticipated any, she longed for it. They all did.

  Alex had thought he could be home by September, and Hope prayed it might be so. She knew that only his return would allow Grace to relax and breathe a little easier. Frankly, it would allow Hope the same sense of relief. She didn’t like bearing the weight of responsibility for her sisters. Of course, she wasn’t bearing it alone. Grace had always been the mothering type and still made certain everyone had their morning vinegar and that they never drank water unless it had first been boiled. Mercy too occasionally took charge. She had, for instance, taken over all the garden duties, telling Grace and Hope that she could manage quite well and needed to feel useful.

  The summer had passed in an abundance of chores, each met one at a time and in a general spirit of unity. Hope had even found her faith growing slowly but steadily. She didn’t dread the Sunday trips to church and had started reading her Bible each morning. She also enjoyed seeing Lance from time to time. He and Uncle Edward had the mill back up and running at full capacity.

  Upon hearing about Grace’s delicate condition, Uncle Edward had declared he would move ahead on building the house he and Alex planned to build. Lance had pledged his help as well. For weeks, additional logs were cut and prepared, and finished lumber for the interior walls and floor was set aside. Uncle Edward had even put together plans to have a house-raising.

  “Are you nearly done there?” Grace asked.

  Hope glanced up from the outdoor caldron where she was washing the wool. “This is the last batch, I’m happy to say. I’m rinsing it now, and once I get it spread out to dry, I’ll be finished. Why?”

  “Well, given that Uncle Edward has planned the house-raising for Saturday, I thought we’d best lay in a supply of food. It’s only right that we feed the workers. I’ve been baking bread all morning. I thought tomorrow I could make pies and cookies. You know what a sweet tooth Uncle Edward has. I can’t imagine the other men will be much different.”

  “No, I don’t suppose so.” Hope finished rinsing the wool and began to pull it from the water. “We still have plenty of ham and smoked fish, and I could go into town and buy supplies. I sold quite a bit of yarn on credit to the Brick Store, so I could definitely load us up with sugar, flour, cornmeal, and whatever else you think we need.”

  “That sounds good. I know some of the wives will accompany their husbands, and most likely they’ll bring food. Still, I think it’s only right we supply the bulk of it. We’ll definitely need more tea, and I heard Mrs. Masterson say there was a supply of lemons just brought up from California. We could make lemonade for the men and cool it in the creek.”

  Hope nodded and spread the wool out on the drying table. “I can go to town in half an hour, if you like.”

  “Good. I’ll come too. I need to purchase more flannel to make diapers.” Grace pulled off her apron. “I’ll go speak with Mercy and see if she’d like to come along as well.”

  Oregon City felt crowded compared to their country farm. The streets were filled with animals and people alike and more traffic than Hope had ever seen. New people were always arriving, and houses were being built on city lots as fast as the mills could supply lumber. There were still repairs being made to some of the mills, but otherwise life was back to normal. With the add
ition of steamships coming to town, the place was starting to take on the feel of a large eastern city. Before long, they might even have that railroad everyone talked about.

  Hope parked the wagon outside the Brick Store then helped Grace down. The trio made their way inside, where Grace was immediately set upon by a couple of women from church.

  “How are you feeling, Grace?”

  Her sister smiled and answered their questions, while Hope moved away to look at some of the new fabrics that had come in. Within minutes it seemed the store had filled up and the noise of chatter swelled in the air. The gossip and news of the day kept most of the customers occupied, and Hope couldn’t help listening in on some of the conversations.

  “Did you hear about the body they found in the river?” one woman asked another.

  “Who was it?”

  The first woman announced that the body was identified as Dr. Prigg, a man who’d disappeared the previous fall.

  “Did he fall into the river and drown?” the other woman asked. “Perhaps he’d been drinking.”

  “No,” her friend replied. “I heard from my husband that there were obvious blows to the head, so it was murder.”

  “No! Oh my! Do you suppose it was Indians? Do you suppose they’re starting a war?”

  Hope frowned. Murder was unusual, but arguments were known to get out of hand. No doubt this was one of those situations. Surely it didn’t signal an Indian uprising, as the second woman suggested. Dr. Prigg had disappeared nearly a year ago, and if there were some sort of Indian war planned, it would have materialized before now.

  “Hope, are you all right?” Mercy asked, coming alongside her. “You look upset.”

  Shaking her head, Hope forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Did you hear that Judge Pratt has sailed for the States? I wish I could sail on the ocean. It sounds like great fun.”

  “It would take a long time, and I’m sure you’d tire of it soon enough.”

  Mercy shook her head. “Pastor Masterson said that they can get from San Francisco to New York in little over a month if all goes well. They take the freight and passengers across New Granada and the Isthmus of Panama. I learned about that in school. And there’s going to be a railroad built there so it will be even faster. Just imagine it.”

  Grace approached. “The stock boy is loading our wagon, so let’s go. I’d like to stop by the post office and then check in with Uncle Edward at the mill.”

  Hope drove them to the post office and waited while Grace went inside. It wasn’t likely that mail would come this way from Alex. If he managed to send a letter, it would have to go by Indian runner or trapper to one of the forts and then get passed along to someone coming to Oregon City. Although, as Grace pointed out, with the official postal service available now, the forts were more inclined to use them.

  When Grace returned to the wagon with a letter in hand, Hope couldn’t contain her surprise. “Is it from Alex?”

  Grace took her seat and shook her head. “No, it’s from Eletta.”

  Hope tried not to react. Eletta and Grace exchanged letters regularly, but it always caused Hope a bit of discomfort. She knew Eletta would write about Faith, and in spite of herself, Hope couldn’t help wanting to know how the little girl was faring.

  “Will you read it to us?” Mercy asked from her perch behind the seat.

  “I will, if Hope will drive us over to the sawmill,” Grace replied, smiling.

  Hope released the brake and snapped the lines. The horses began plodding down the street while Grace began to read.

  “My dearest friends, I wanted to write to you as soon as possible, given the Indian troubles in our area. I wanted to assure you that we are doing fine. There has been a great deal of strife between the settlers and the Indians. In many cases, however, rather than the Indians being responsible for the attack, it is instead the white miners. In some cases, the white men have been most brutal, killing Indian women and children. I think they’re inclined to remember Dr. Whitman and all that happened at the mission. Still, it is hard to see God-fearing men act no better than heathens. Of course, the discovery of gold has brought that attitude about even without the help of the native peoples.”

  Hope listened as Grace continued.

  “But while the fighting goes on around us, our own Indians are quite happy to have us in their midst. Still, the violence makes Isaac question the wisdom of moving to the Rogue River area. I point out something that he has often said to me at such times: we came to do God’s work and must go where He leads. Isaac agreed.

  Faith grows bigger every day. She is such a smart baby and will soon be two. She talks a storm, and I’ve even started teaching her to read. Perhaps it’s because she is around adults who talk throughout the day. She’s quite a pretty baby with her dark hair and blue eyes. The natives here love her and spoil her. They have all but made her one of their own.”

  It was hard for Hope to conjure an image of the child without remembering Tomahas. She realized she hadn’t thought much of him lately. There had been so much to keep her busy that she’d fallen into bed exhausted each night and hadn’t dreamed of much of anything. During the days, she had been focused on other things. Perhaps she was truly starting to be rid of the past.

  “Faith babbles on with other children, and I believe she’s learning their language as well as teaching them English. I’ve set up a little school for the Indians, and Faith, of course, accompanies me. She loves taking a seat and sits so quietly as I teach. She’s such a dear little creature.”

  Hope found the news more interesting than she’d expected. Faith’s accomplishments surprised her. Hope had never been one for book learning.

  Grace finished the letter just as they reached the mill. Uncle Edward and Lance happened to be outside talking and immediately came to the wagon.

  “Well, ladies, are you ready for Saturday?” Uncle Edward asked as Hope set the brake.

  “We were in town for that very purpose,” Grace replied. “I wanted to stop by and check with you as to whether we needed to do anything more than prepare food.”

  “Nope, we have everything else under control,” their uncle assured her.

  Lance said nothing, but Hope couldn’t help glancing his way. He smiled, and she returned it with a nod. She hadn’t seen much of him except at church, and his absence only seemed to make her think of him all the more.

  “We’ll be out there as soon as the sun’s up,” Edward said. “I figure we’ll get the entire building up by nightfall if we keep at it all day.”

  “Goodness, I can’t imagine that being possible, but I trust you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do, and so do the others. I’ve gone over the plans Alex and I drew up with a couple of the men who work building houses. They’re each going to head up a team and a specific part of the house.” Edward grinned. “You’ll see. It’ll take no time at all to get the main structure up. By the way, why don’t you come see what I have made for your kitchen?”

  “May I come too?” Mercy asked.

  Uncle Edward smiled. “Of course. Why don’t you all come?”

  He helped Grace from the wagon, and Lance came to assist Mercy. Once that was done, he turned to Hope.

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Busy. Summer is always busy, what with tending to the sheep, gardening, canning, and of course the added work related to the coming baby.” She didn’t follow the others into the mill, and Lance didn’t seem to mind at all.

  “You look very pretty in yellow.”

  His comment took her by surprise. Hope looked down at the blouse that had once been white. “I came by it quite by accident. I was dyeing wool and got some of the stain on my blouse, and I figured it was better to dye the rest of it than deem the blouse ruined.”

  “It’s a pretty color, and it complements you nicely.”

  She wasn’t used to such personal praise. “Thank you.” The words were barely whispered, but she knew Lance heard
them.

  “Are you looking forward to the new house?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose it will make things much easier on Grace. At least in some ways. She’s never liked our current kitchen and cramped pantry. She wants a room all to itself where she can keep her herbs and vinegar.”

  “I can understand that. What about you? What kind of house would suit you?”

  “Something small like we have now is just fine. Even smaller works for me. I liked the little cabin by the river. It was homey.”

  He chuckled. “If by homey you mean tiny, then I understand.”

  “It always felt . . . safe.”

  “I know that’s important to you.” He met her eyes. “I hope you feel safe with me.”

  She looked into his brown eyes and realized that truly was the difference with Lance. She felt a sense of security that she didn’t feel with other men. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and her voice was only a whisper. “Yes.”

  He grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His chest puffed out a bit as he rocked back on his heels. “It’s about time you admitted that.”

  Surprised by his reaction, Hope shook her head. “What are you getting at?”

  “Only that we’ve got something special, you and me. Our friendship is . . . well, it’s more.”

  “More than what?” she asked, her knees starting to feel weak.

  His gaze never left hers. “More than friendship.”

  Hope kept thinking about what Lance had said at the sawmill. Throughout the night, she’d tossed and turned, trying to make sense of it all. Now it was Saturday, and people had been streaming onto the property since first light. Even with all her responsibilities, however, Lance and his comment weren’t far from her thoughts.

  She hadn’t believed it possible to raise a house in a single day, but as the teams set to work, she began to see how it could be done. The logs were arranged for the exterior of the two-story house then carefully notched. As the height of the wall grew, the effort needed to raise the logs into place increased. The men created a system of ropes and pulleys, but coordinating it with the other walls of the house appeared daunting. The men, however, made the work seem almost easy.