Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  After struggling with Garrick’s note for several minutes, she finally decided he wanted her to eat breakfast and then pick up supplies. It made sense.

  It only took a few minutes to go back upstairs and locate the money he’d left in the dresser. There was a great deal, more than she’d ever had to spend before. For once, she’d be able to buy a few luxuries like coffee, maybe even some sugar.

  After a leisurely breakfast, Becky went to the nearest mercantile. Within a short time, she emerged armed with those items she considered indispensable for cleaning. The storekeeper had offered to drop off the supply of food staples on his way out of town later, and she’d accepted gratefully. As she walked the quarter of a mile to the cabin, she felt more optimistic than she had in a long time. Life no longer looked quite so hopeless.

  Garrick couldn’t afford to be distracted. A dozen lives, including his own, depended on his ability to concentrate on the task before him. Usually, it wasn’t a problem, but today a pair of velvety brown eyes kept intruding as he carefully measured out the exact amount of black powder needed for a charge.

  He’d awakened at first light, his body responding uncomfortably to the feminine warmth pressed against him. Stifling a groan, he regretfully untangled himself and crawled out of bed before he gave in to temptation.

  As he pulled on his clothes, he studied his wife. For the first time, he wondered how old she was, not more than twenty, certainly. She was little more than a child who had lost a lover, then her father, and finally bound herself to a total stranger.

  Garrick reached into his pants pocket to pull out his rapidly dwindling roll of bills. He peeled off a couple, and then glanced down at Becky. She’d never really been given the chance to leave South Pass, to make a new life for herself somewhere else. After a moment, he divided the roll in half and placed part of it in the dresser drawer. He really didn’t want her to go, but he had to give her the option.

  Telling himself it was the only honorable thing to do, Garrick borrowed a pen and paper from the desk clerk downstairs. After telling her where he’d left the money, and urging her to get breakfast, he told her to do whatever she wanted with the rest. Then he gave the note with the clerk and left quickly before he had a chance to change his mind.

  All day, he’d regretted his generous impulse. She had no reason to stay, and he’d given her a small fortune to take with her if she wanted to leave. By the time his shift was finally over, Garrick was convinced he was the biggest fool around.

  Though he was expecting it, the hotel clerk’s revelation that Becky had left after breakfast and not returned was like a hammer blow. Uncertain why her defection should bother him so much when they were virtual strangers, Garrick went to the stable to collect the horse and buckboard. He might as well pick up his things from the cabin and come back to town for the night. Maybe a game of poker at The Green Garter would lift his spirits.

  The ride out to the cabin was a gloomy one. When he arrived, he ducked through the open door and came to an abrupt halt. He looked around the room in amazement. All the dirt and grime was gone. The walls and floor had a freshly scrubbed look; a few wet spots even remained on the floorboards. The battered collection of pots and pans sat on the hearth, gleaming in the firelight as a pot of beans bubbled invitingly over the fire. It must have taken hours to remove the accumulation of soot that had covered them.

  The sound of splashing water outside caught his attention. He stepped back through the door just as Becky upended a bucket of water into a barrel that sat at the corner of the house.

  “Oh,” she said, looking up. “You startled me.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Becky’s welcoming smile faltered. “I-I was just filling the water barrel.”

  “Not anymore, you aren’t,” he said gruffly as he took the bucket from her hand and walked toward the creek.

  Becky watched him leave with confusion. She knew that curt sound in a man’s voice. It meant he was angry for some reason, and he didn’t even know she’d spent all the money he’d given her yet. Wondering what else she could have done wrong, she went inside and immediately realized the pans were still stacked on the hearth. She’d left them there after she scrubbed out the storage box, waiting for it to dry. It was just the sort of untidiness her father had always berated her for.

  With a sinking feeling in her middle, Becky hurried over to the fireplace and started stuffing the pans into the box. That’s what came of trying so hard to make things nice for him. She’d done the best she could, and it wasn’t good enough. What had made her think it would be?

  By the time Garrick finished filling the water barrel, Becky had mixed up a batch of corn bread and was putting it among the coals to bake. Forcing herself not to look up, she pulled the hot embers up around the dutch oven. “Supper will be ready pretty soon.”

  “Good.” Garrick could tell she was unhappy, and he was pretty sure he knew why. He just didn’t know how to say he was sorry for putting her through all this. His tongue felt as though it was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  As the silence stretched out unbearably, Becky stood up and nervously wiped the spotless mantle with a rag. “I’m sorry I didn’t have everything finished when you got here,” she finally blurted out.

  “What?”

  “The house was a mess, supper wasn’t ready.” Her voice quavered. “I didn’t even have the water barrel filled.”

  Her words hit Garrick like jagged pieces of metal. In two steps, he was at her side. Feeling like a complete fool, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “Becky— ”

  “I wa-anted to have it all finished wh-en…you got here. I spent all your money and supper isn’t ev-even done.”

  “Don’t cry.” Her sobs tore at Garrick’s heart as he pulled her into his arms. Not sure what to do, he patted her back clumsily. “I never expected you to do all this,” he said at last. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  That got her attention. “W-why not?” she asked, pulling away from his shoulder with a sniff.

  “The place is falling apart. You can see daylight through the walls in a dozen places, the window’s broken, there’s no furniture, and the roof probably leaks.” He glanced around ruefully. “In fact, there isn’t much right with it.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong,” Becky said, wiping her eyes. “Look at the floor.”

  Garrick glanced at his feet and then back to her face. “What about it?”

  “It’s wood, not dirt, and only a few of the boards are warped. The walls are solid, so we can replace the chinking and mend the roof.” Then Becky grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the window. “Listen.”

  Obediently, Garrick strained his ears. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s right. Other than an occasional boom from one of the mines, I didn’t hear much all day. If I didn’t know South Pass City was less than half a mile away, I’d think this was an isolated mountain cabin.”

  “And that pleases you?”

  “Very much.” She smiled. “When high water is over, the creek in back will even be fairly clean because we’re upstream from town. There isn’t much mining going on above us either, so if we let the water set for a while in the water barrel, it should be safe to drink.”

  “I’ll admit I’m impressed,” Garrick said, looking around. “You’ve got it looking much better than I would have ever imagined possible in such a short time.”

  “Then you’re not mad anymore?” Becky’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  Garrick gave her a startled look. “I never was.”

  “You sounded like it when you had to finish filling the water barrel.”

  “I wasn’t happy to find you doing it, but I wasn’t mad at you.”

  “Why didn’t you want the barrel filled?”

  “It has nothing to do with the water barrel. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy buckets, or chopping wood, or doing anything that could hurt your baby.”

  “Oh.”

  “Prom
ise me you’ll leave things like that for me to do.”

  “A-all right,” Becky said. Nobody had ever worried about her like that before. It seemed like almost everything this man did was a new experience for her. As she watched him dig through the pile of his belongings he’d dropped off the day before, she wondered if she’d ever learn to understand him.

  “Here,” he said, pulling out a canvas bag and handing it to her. “I’ll be right back.”

  When Becky opened the bag, she discovered two tin plates and the flatware to go with them. There was only a single cup, but at least they wouldn’t have to eat out of the pans with their fingers.

  By the time the cornbread was done baking, Garrick had returned with two pieces of a thick log. Both were more or less flat on either end and stood about two feet high. Becky was puzzled until he upended them next to the table and covered each with one of his shirts.

  “They won’t be the most comfortable stools around, but they’ll work until I can build some chairs.”

  “You can do that?” Becky looked surprised as she set the table.

  Garrick shrugged. “My father made all our furniture.”

  “Was he a craftsman?”

  “No, a farmer, but working with wood was something he always loved.”

  “Were you close to him?”

  Garrick smiled softly as he looked into the distant past. “Ja, we were very close.”

  “When did he die?”

  “Last I heard, he was still alive.” Abruptly, he turned away and walked to the fireplace. “Are the beans done?”

  “I-I think so.”

  “Good. Let’s eat.”

  The first meal they shared in their new home was far from exciting, but the food was plentiful and filling. Beyond cutting her apology short and telling her he didn’t mind that she had spent all the money he’d given her, Garrick had very little to say. He was more inclined to eat than talk, and Becky was beginning to find his long silences less unnerving. In fact, she was more disturbed by sharing the single cup with him. There was something oddly disquieting about drinking from it moments after his lips had touched the rim.

  After supper, Becky washed the dishes while Garrick dug out his lantern and a large square of canvas he’d used as flooring in his tent. After cutting it in half, he covered the window with part of it and rigged a curtain across one corner of the room with the other.

  Becky watched silently as he made up her bed on the bunk then spread his own bedroll in front of the fireplace. She was glad he was being so considerate but couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before he wanted to share a bed the way they shared the cup.

  As the days went by, life settled into a routine. Every morning, Garrick left for work right after breakfast and returned at the end of his shift twelve hours later. He spent the evenings building furniture while Becky sewed, and a quiet camaraderie began to develop between them. Though their marriage of convenience wasn’t without its bumps, they were, for the most part, satisfied.

  When Garrick taught her how to drive the buckboard, Becky was delighted. She’d grown up accepting boredom and loneliness as a way of life; now she reveled in the freedom the buckboard gave her. During her daily excursions, Becky talked to Sophie as she would a friend. The horse always swiveled her ears toward the sound as though she were listening intently.

  More and more frequently, Becky found herself telling Sophie about the confusing feelings Garrick aroused in her. The memory of the solid comfort of his body the time he’d held her in his arms and his many kindnesses lay soft and warm in her mind. It wasn’t love, for the hot thrills Cameron’s touch had evoked weren’t there. Still, the thought of sleeping with her new husband wasn’t the least bit repulsive. Perhaps her father had been right about her, after all.

  Chapter 6

  “Supper’s on, Garrick.”

  “Be right there.” Garrick sank his ax into the chopping block and picked up an armload of split wood to take into the cabin. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d have something different to eat tonight.

  In the month and a half that he and Becky had been married, the meals had never varied. Supper was always cornbread and beans and breakfast was cornmeal mush. She’d faithfully sent cold beans and corn bread every day for lunch until he told her he really didn’t have time for a mid-day meal.

  Garrick ducked through the door and dumped the wood into the wood box. As he glanced toward Becky, who was cheerfully setting supper on the table, his heart sank. Beans.

  With an inward sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and poured hot water into the washbowl. In spite of her unimaginative cooking, he was well satisfied with his young wife. She kept the cabin spotless and never complained about anything. He didn’t even mind her cheerful chatter, which seemed inexhaustible. If he occasionally wished for a little peace and quiet, he reminded himself how lonely he’d been before she came into his life.

  “How was your day?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Fine.”

  “I finished sewing your new shirt this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Becky resisted the urge to slam the pan of cornbread down on the table. If she told him she’d spent the afternoon running naked through the streets of South Pass City he’d probably just arch one of those darn eyebrows of his and say, “Oh?”

  A sudden knock on the door startled them both. Their gazes met in a look of mutual surprise. There had never been a visitor in all the time they had lived there. “Who do you suppose that is?” Becky asked, heading for the door.

  When she opened it, she was confronted by a complete stranger. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and bright green eyes that widened when he saw her. “Good evening, ma’am,” he said, whisking his hat from his head. “I was told I might find Swede here.”

  “Ox!” Garrick greeted their visitor with obvious pleasure as he dried his neck with a towel. “What brings you out here?”

  “I need to talk business with you.”

  “We were about to sit down to supper,” Becky said. “Would you like to join us?”

  Ox’s face split into a delighted grin. “I sure would, ma’am. I never turn down a home-cooked meal.”

  “Hope you like beans,” Garrick couldn’t resist saying as his friend came inside. “This is my wife, Becky. Becky, Ox Bruford.”

  “How do you do?”

  “It’s a real pleasure, ma’am, a real pleasure.”

  Becky blushed slightly and moved away to set another place at the table. Thank goodness Garrick had thought to buy more dishes.

  “Holy hell, Swede,” Ox said in an undertone. “Where did you find her? She’s plumb beautiful.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “And you never were one for talking a man’s leg off,” Ox said with a grin. “Danged if that ain’t one I’d like to hear, though.” He let out a soundless whistle, as Becky turned sideways to set the table. Her pregnancy was obvious. “Son of a gun, Swede. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  Garrick shrugged. “Some things come naturally.”

  Becky gave a sigh of relief at the sound of Ox’s delighted laughter. Apparently, she’d done the right thing inviting the man to dinner. She hadn’t been sure.

  Ox Bruford turned out to be as garrulous as Garrick was quiet. He spent the entire meal telling stories of his travels, and Becky listened with real interest. When supper was over, she regretfully cleared the table so the two men could talk.

  “You hear about the Indian trouble out at Fort Stambaugh?”

  Garrick nodded. “I heard there’d been a few skirmishes. Why?”

  “The colonel ordered an escort for all wagons for the next few months, at least until the Sioux go to their winter hunting grounds. That means we won’t be able to come in as often. I need to know how much black powder you’re going to need to hold you over just in case.”

  “Did you talk to Tom Ryan?”

  “Yup, and he said to ask you and Klynton since you’d be using it
.”

  “How long do you figure it might be between deliveries?”

  “Hopefully not more than a few weeks, but you’d better be prepared for a month.”

  Garrick rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he pondered the question. “Better get me a dozen kegs, then. I don’t want to run short. You’ll have to ask Klynton about the nitro.”

  “He’s going to have to make special arrangements for that with somebody else. I wouldn’t touch it for half the gold in the Carissa. Well, guess I’d best get on back to town.” He stood and flashed Becky a grin. “Thanks for supper, ma’am. Those were damn...uh...I mean dang good beans.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bruford. I hope you’ll come again.” Her words were for Ox, but her gaze never left Garrick.

  “Take care of yourself,” Garrick said, walking their guest to the door, “and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  “Yup, thanks again for supper. Good night.”

  Garrick knew Becky was unhappy about something, but he didn’t have a clue what. No doubt she’d tell him soon enough.

  He didn’t even glance at her as he went to the corner and picked up the seat of the rocking chair he was working on. He didn’t have to; he was aware of her with every fiber of his being, just as he always was. God help him, but she seemed to grow more beautiful with each passing day.

  Nights were the best...and the worst. Becky always waited until the lantern was out and she thought he was asleep before she prepared for bed. The first time she’d stepped out from behind the canvas curtain dressed in a voluminous nightgown, with her hair in a long thick braid, Garrick thought his heart would stop. Unaware of how transparent the firelight made the cotton, she’d moved freely through the cabin, doing little womanly things before she went to bed.

  It had become a ritual that Garrick looked forward to every night. Sometimes, she would sit and brush her hair until it crackled; other times she’d only wash her face and hands, but it was always intensely satisfying to watch her from his darkened corner. Even her impending motherhood didn’t make her less desirable. In fact, the softly rounding contours stirred unfamiliar feelings within him that were more difficult to deal with than lust.