Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  Becky jumped at the sound of his voice and looked his way with huge eyes. Then, with an inarticulate cry, she covered her face with her hands and let her hair fall around her like a protective shield.

  Heedless of his own pain, Garrick rose from the bed and crossed the short distance to kneel beside the chair. “Becky, don’t. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “My f-father said I was evil.”

  “Oh, Becky.” Garrick put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head forward to rest against his shoulder. “That’s not true. I never met anyone less evil in my life.”

  “He used t-to try and beat it out of me wh-when he got drunk. I hated him.”

  Garrick’s grip tightened as he felt the bile rise in his throat. The man must have been a monster. “Becky, your father was sick. The things he did were not your fault, even if he said they were. You weren’t evil to hate him. Anyone would.” He rubbed his other hand comfortingly across the top of her back. “I can’t imagine you doing anything really bad.”

  “I got pregnant.”

  “Not by yourself.” Crooking a finger under her chin, he raised her face and smiled down into her eyes. “If there were anything wrong with you, I’d have noticed it in the four months we’ve lived together. All I’ve seen is a woman who does everything she can to please me.”

  Becky sniffed. “I don’t deserve you, Garrick.”

  “And I don’t deserve you,” he said softly, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. The blue-green of his eyes seemed to darken as his hand continued to caress the sensitive skin.

  For a magic moment, Becky thought he was going to kiss her. With lips slightly parted, she waited breathlessly, her heart pounding in anticipation.

  He glanced away as a chunk of wood shifted in the stove, and the spell was broken. “I’d better let you finish drying your hair,” he said, dropping his hand.

  Becky suddenly realized that she was wearing a thin nightgown, and Garrick was dressed only in the blanket Angel had given him to wrap around his waist. She could feel the heat of a blush climb to her face.

  It wasn’t difficult for him to figure out what was going through her mind as she ducked her head in embarrassment. With an inward sigh of regret, Garrick rose to his feet. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  Becky finished drying and braiding her hair in record time. Knowing Garrick was watching made her strangely self-conscious, though it had never bothered her at home. Of course, he’d never touched her bare skin before. The feel of his fingers against her cheek lingered as a sweet memory.

  She went behind the screen to put on the robe Angel had lent her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped nervously around the edge of the screen. Though Garrick lay on his stomach with his eyes shut, she could tell he wasn’t asleep by the tension in his face. “The doctor gave me this salve for your bruises,” she said.

  “I don’t want it.”

  Becky smiled slightly at the almost petulant tone of his voice. “He said I was to apply it twice a day.”

  “It won’t make my back feel better.”

  “I don’t know if it will or not,” she said, “but it shouldn’t make it any worse.”

  “Do I have any choice in this?”

  “No,” Becky said as she dipped her fingers into the salve and gently applied it to the back of his shoulder. “I always tried to think of something pleasant when I’m sick or hurt. My favorite was the last picnic my mother and I went on before she died. We packed a big lunch and went down to the river. Mama had borrowed a rowboat from a friend of hers so we could row out to the island. It was wonderful. No matter how bad I feel, the memory of that day makes me feel better. Surely there was a special day like that for you.”

  “How did your mother die?”

  “Smallpox. I had it too, but I survived. About all I remember is my aunt telling me Mama was gone and that everything in our house would have to be burned. At the time all I could think about was how awful I felt and how it didn’t matter because I was probably going to die too.”

  “Then your father brought you west?”

  “No, I never even knew I had a father until later. I’m not sure my parents were ever married. She didn’t take his name.”

  “Then how did you wind up with him?”

  Becky sighed as she leaned across him to reach the other side of his back. “I don’t really know. He just showed up one day. I think my aunt must have sent for him. She had six children of her own and didn’t need another one. Besides, she and my mother were only stepsisters, so we weren’t really kin. I don’t think my father was pleased to have a seven-year-old tagging along, but he did take me with him. Mining camps were better than an orphanage.”

  The image of her instinctive reaction to the loud voice in the hall crossed Garrick’s mind, and he wasn’t so sure. As her fingers gently spread the soothing salve over his hurts, he couldn’t help thinking there had been no one to do that for her. No one had been there for her for a very long time.

  “It’s not a day,” he said suddenly. “It’s a place.”

  “What?”

  “The memory that makes me happy is my grandfather’s shop. I loved to go there when I was a boy. He was a blacksmith.”

  “A Norwegian blacksmith?”

  “Why not? Norwegians use as much metal as anyone else,” Garrick said. “Actually, though, this was my grandfather O’Brian. I never knew my father’s father.”

  Becky glanced down at her hand. “He made this ring, didn’t he?”

  “For my tenth birthday. I wore it until I couldn’t even get it on my little finger any more. He taught me how to work the bellows as soon as I was big enough, and I was at the forge before I turned thirteen.”

  “I was never inside a blacksmith’s shop. What’s it like?”

  “You’ve never been in a smithy?”

  “I never had a reason to go to one. Besides, not many mining camps are as big as South Pass City.”

  “My grandfather’s smithy was in the middle of town...”

  As Becky listened to Garrick’s enthusiastic description, she was pleased to feel the muscles under her fingers relax. Hers were doing the opposite. The combination of his skin under her fingers and that beautiful masculine voice was doing strange things to her insides. How she wished she could affect him the same way.

  With a flash of annoyance at herself, Becky dismissed the thought. How could he find her attractive when she was roughly the shape of a barrel? She put the lid on the jar of salve and set it aside before moving to the unoccupied side of the bed. With a pillow between her back and the headboard, she settled down to listen. In the four months they’d been together, Garrick had never said so much all at once. Blacksmithing was obviously more than just a fond memory.

  “You really loved it, didn’t you?” she asked when he finally stopped talking.

  “We both always thought I’d take over his shop when I was old enough.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  There was a long moment of silence before he spoke, his voice filled with deep regret. “I got stupid and threw away my chance.”

  “Couldn’t you still do it?”

  “No. It’s years too late.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ja, I’m sure,” Garrick said with a touch of irritation.

  Becky lapsed into silence. She knew from experience that Garrick’s accent became pronounced when his emotions were close to the surface. It always seemed to happen when she asked about his past. Strangely enough, everything she knew pointed to a happy childhood. So why didn’t he want to talk about it?

  “I never thanked you for saving me today,” she said, moving on to a safer topic. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  He smiled up at her. “I headed home early today. When the thunder started, I looked up and saw my wife dodging lightning. What were you doing up there, anyway?”

  “Looking for wild onions. I wanted to make a stew for supper.”

  “Wi
ld onions! In September? They don’t grow after—” He stopped in mid-sentence to stare at her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked uneasily.

  “Your stomach,” he said in a shocked voice. “I thought I saw it move.”

  Becky giggled. “You don’t need to look like that. It’s just the baby.”

  “But the whole thing shifted.”

  “I know. Here, give me your hand.” She placed it on the mound of her abdomen and held it there. “He’s pretty active today.”

  “It’s hard,” he said in surprise. “I thought it would be soft.” Just then the baby gave a powerful kick and Garrick’s eyes widened. “It kicked me!”

  “Isn’t it something?”

  “Ja, it’s wonderful.” As he felt it move once more, the baby suddenly became real to Garrick. He lay there for several minutes reveling in the unexpected sensations as the activity continued beneath his hand. For the first time, Becky and her baby became separate entities.

  Garrick’s expression of incredulous delight gave Becky a strange feeling of warmth as she gazed down at him. She resisted the urge to lift her hand and run her fingers through his white-blond hair. What had she done to deserve him?

  At last he raised his eyes to hers. “I never knew,” he said simply. “Thank you.”

  In that instant, Becky realized something completely unexpected had happened; she’d fallen in love with her husband.

  Chapter 10

  “What do you mean you’re not going to vote?” Angel asked, staring at Becky accusingly. “You can’t just turn your back on our first election. The women of Wyoming are the only ones in the world with the right to vote. You’re going to go to the polls if I have to drag you down there.”

  Becky shook her head. “No, Angel, you don’t understand—”

  “I don’t care what your excuse is; it’s not good enough. You have an obligation to women everywhere to stand up and be counted.” Suddenly Angel’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Swede isn’t it? He won’t let you vote.”

  “Oh, no. He’s never said a word. I can’t vote because I’m not old enough.”

  “Good Lord.” Angel glanced first at Becky’s swollen midsection, and then at her face. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Jesus!”

  “That ain’t so young,” said a woman Becky knew only as Molly. “I’d been working almost four years by the time I was that age.”

  “And my ma had two youngun’s,” put in another.

  “I know, I know, I just thought Becky was older. All right, ladies, we’d best get moving. I want to be back before the shift changes at the mines, and we may run into trouble.” Angel glanced at Becky. “You sure you’ll be all right here by yourself?”

  “What could happen to me here?”

  Angel gave a snort. “If you don’t know, I’m sure as hell not going to tell you. Sam’s out front. If you need him, just holler.”

  Becky grinned as Angel marched the other five women out the door. In spite of her profession, Angel was a dyed-in-the-wool suffragette. Seeing it as her patriotic duty to get as many women as possible to the polls, she had spent the entire week before the election organizing all the less than respectable ladies of South Pass City. The women who worked in the brothels, saloons, and dance halls were all going to vote at the same time, and heaven help anyone that questioned their right to do so. Becky almost wished she could go along to watch, but she knew Garrick would never approve of her associating with the so-called soiled doves. With a sigh, she turned back to the dress she was mending.

  At the thought of Garrick, her smile deepened. There had been a subtle change in their relationship in the week since the hailstorm. Though neither had said anything, there was a new closeness between them, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

  She still faithfully spread the salve over Garrick’s back twice a day, though most of the soreness was long gone. If she was very careful and used it sparingly, there was enough for several more days. Rubbing her hands across the broad expanse of muscles and skin was a delight she wasn’t going to give up until she had to. Best of all, Garrick didn’t seem to mind. In fact he—

  KA-BOOM!”

  For an instant, Becky sat paralyzed in her chair as the explosion rattled the windows of The Green Garter. Then, with a cry of anguish, she jumped to her feet and ran out into the street. She all but collided with a man who was running toward the mines.

  “What happened?” she yelled.

  “Don’t know, but that wasn’t a normal blast. Nobody in his right mind would use that big of a charge.”

  “Do you know which mine?” Becky asked, franticly grabbing his sleeve as he started to move away.

  “It sounded like either the Goulden Curry or the Garfield, but it could have been any of them on that side of town.”

  A second explosion rent the air. Though it was more muted than the first, it was no less ominous. With a choked cry, Becky lifted her skirts and headed for the mines as fast as she could.

  South Pass City’s main street never seemed so long. Slowed by her cumbersome body, Becky was still some distance away when her fears were realized. The crowd was gathered outside the entrance of the Goulden Curry, not the Garfield. She knew Garrick was there somewhere deep in the bowels of the earth, probably at the center of the explosion.

  Dr. Caldwell was already at the mine entrance, kneeling next to the bodies of three men when Becky arrived. Two were covered with a piece of sacking and the third seemed to be unconscious as the doctor tended him.

  “Have you seen my husband, Dr. Caldwell?” Becky asked desperately.

  “No,” he said, glancing at the shrouded bodies. “But in this case, that’s good news.”

  Two men emerged from the mine carrying a third. “There’s still three men down there, and one of the main timbers is broken. The whole thing’s going to crash down any minute. We’ll need help if we’re going to get them out.

  “I’ll go.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Becky was surprised to see Ox Bruford striding through the crowd. She hadn’t even known he was in town. Half a dozen others stepped forward. There was no shortage of men willing to risk their lives to save the trapped miners.

  “No.” Ox held up a hand. “The more we take in, the less chance we have of getting everyone out safely. Three of you come with me. The rest of you find something to shore up that broken beam.”

  “You may need my help.” Dr. Caldwell stood up and shrugged out of his coat. “If someone could keep an eye on this man...”

  Becky knelt down next to the unconscious miner. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just watch him. If he starts to choke, roll him on his side.”

  “Doctor,” Becky said, looking up at him beseechingly, “my husband—”

  “I know. We’ll do everything we can.”

  With that he was gone. Becky swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay.

  “I’m alive?”

  Becky looked down at her patient in surprise. Though one eye was completely swollen shut and the pupil of the other seemed oddly large, the man was obviously awake.

  “Pete?” The miner who had just come from the mine spoke before Becky had a chance to answer. “Are you all right?”

  “My head feels like it’s been stomped into the ground, and I can’t move my right arm or leg.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Blasting oil. That danged fool powder man dropped a whole vial into a keg of powder.”

  “Jesus. There won’t hardly be enough left to bury.”

  “If they even find him.”

  “Noooooo!” As the full impact of the men’s words hit, Becky gave in to the blackness that rose up to engulf her.

  “Wake up, dammit.” Angel’s voice penetrated the curtain of darkness surrounding Becky’s mind. “We don’t have time to waste on a silly female who doesn’t know any better than to faint. There are wounded men here.”

  Becky opened her ey
es and stared up into her friend’s face.

  “That’s better.” Angel’s disapproving words were at odds with her look of relief. “Now, pull yourself together. They’re starting to bring the men up out of the mine.”

  “Oh, Angel, they said—”

  “It wasn’t Swede.”

  “What?”

  “The shift was changing. The accident happened outside with the powder man from the second shift. Swede’s blasting crew were the only ones left in the mine. They were just about ready to set off the charges like they do at the end of every shift.”

  “But there were two explosions.”

  “The first one somehow triggered the second. Jack was down in the mine, but he wasn’t real sure what happened. They heard the explosion, and the next thing he knew Swede was tearing fuses out of the drill holes. Must have missed one.”

  Becky’s eyes filled with tears. “Then he could still be hurt or dead.”

  “Maybe, but it isn’t going to do a bit of good for you to cry. If he’s hurt, the last thing he needs to see when he comes out of that mine is you bawling your eyes out.” Angel stood and reached down to help Becky up. “There’ll be plenty of time for tears later.”

  Becky wiped her eyes then got to her feet. “How do you know what happened?”

  “The men told me.”

  “When?”

  “While you were out cold. I heard the explosions and knew there was big trouble, so I hotfooted it up here as fast as I could. Got here just in time to pick you up out of the dirt.”

  “There they are,” someone shouted, and Becky held her breath, almost afraid to hope. One of the rescuers stumbled out with a man slung over his shoulder. Following close behind came two more men carrying another between them on a blanket as the doctor supported the man’s bloodied arm. There was no sign of Ox Bruford or Garrick.

  Becky hurried to the doctor’s side. “Did you see my husband?”

  He looked at her indecisively for a moment then nodded.

  “Is he...is he hurt?”

  “Only a few minor cuts and bruises.”

  “Then why didn’t he come out with the others?”