Ben, under the table, jumped up and banged his head. The domed platters all bounced. Ben’s shout was more anger than pain, but he rubbed his head and climbed out more carefully before he charged toward a narrow aisle on the far end of the car, opened a door to the right side of the aisle, and vanished. Zack was on his heels.
“I’ll go lock the door on the other end, then maybe we can relax while we eat.” David went toward the escape route.
“To my right are bedrooms,” David went on as if his boys disappeared all the time. He walked past Megan to the door that led to the front of the car and latched it as the train’s whistle blew and they pulled out of the station. Megan held on tight until the train settled into a steady speed.
Raising his voice, David said, “Let’s eat, boys.” The boys raced out of the bedroom, shouting as always, and beat David to the table. Megan was a bit slower, and by the time she sat down, David was already scooping food onto the plates.
Megan settled onto the bench seat by Ben just as the boy grabbed a chicken leg. She said, “We should ask God to bless the food and our journey.”
The boy froze.
Megan hated to stop them. They were all famished, her included. But this was the right moment to make her mothering preferences known, and in any household that she might run, prayer before a meal would be the way of things.
David nodded. “Let’s bow our heads.”
After saying a sincere but very brief grace, David went back to serving food and Megan hurried to help him lest Ben climb onto the table and dive straight into the bowl of mashed potatoes.
The meal was chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, along with steaming hot creamed corn and a loaf of bread, already sliced. The last dome hid an apple pie with juice oozing out of slits in the crust.
Megan ate with as much enthusiasm as the menfolk.
The meal was gone within minutes. As the boys finished, David pulled a cord that Megan hadn’t noticed before, then went to unlock the door to the rest of the train car closest to the bedrooms.
Zack climbed out of his seat. Ben ducked beneath the table and crawled past Megan’s legs. Rolling her eyes at the boys’ behavior, Megan began stacking plates.
“Leave that.” David snagged Zack and lifted the lad. With a quick swipe with one of the heavy white napkins, David wiped gravy off the boy’s chin.
“Can you bring Ben? It’s nap time.” David sounded so tired, Megan wondered if he wouldn’t mind a nap himself. Megan could understand how tired a body could be at mid-day. She hadn’t slept much the night before, mulling over marrying a stranger.
“I don’t want a nap, Pa.” Ben’s complaints didn’t match his heavy lids. Megan urged him from the couch and followed David into the first bedroom. The tiny room had one narrow bed. David settled Zack next to the wall, then turned to Ben. The boy, despite his protests, climbed straight in and was asleep before David had the covers straightened.
Megan backed out of the room—there was hardly space enough to turn around. As David followed her out, he rubbed his chest. She’d have to ask him more about his pneumonia. It took awhile to recover. The man needed to rest. But he’d been single-minded about getting on this train, so Megan had kept her opinions to herself.
A movement to her right drew her head around.
“Hello,” Megan said.
A man with black skin, and wearing a crisp black suit coat, tipped his small hat and returned her greeting, then went back to clearing away the dishes. He must have entered while they’d been in the bedroom. She felt strange letting someone do that work for her, but no doubt the rich expected such things. And no one would be waiting on her once she got home to Wyoming, so she’d put up with it.
David locked the door after the waiter passed through. “I think I’ll lie down for a while.” He reached for the second bedroom door and swung it open.
“That sounds good. I’ll catch a few winks myself.”
David stopped in his tracks. “Uh . . . we maybe need to . . .” He turned to look at her. “I can sleep on the couch.”
Megan craned her neck to see past him. This bed was a bit bigger than the one the boys were in, but only a bit.
Very close quarters for her to share with a stranger. But she’d taken her vows; she intended to keep them.
“No, go on in. A man and his wife are expected to share a bed.” Megan’s mother had discussed such things with her, in very general terms, before her passing. But Megan knew what was expected of a lawfully wedded wife—well, she didn’t exactly know, but something was expected of her and she was prepared for whatever it was. She swallowed hard but forced herself to say, “I won’t shirk from my wifely duty.”
David took one more look at the couch, which was far too small to be used as a bed, then stepped inside. “I reckon we’ll have to make do, Megan, but I want you to know I won’t . . . what I mean is . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “There’s no need for you to concern yourself on that account. I’ll ask no . . . duty of you.”
Megan had been worrying about it, worrying quite a bit. Especially because she had no real idea what it meant. It was the main reason she hadn’t slept last night. “It might be best to wait until we are home.”
“You needn’t worry about it at home either. I don’t expect that . . . that sort of thing, not ever.” David sat on the bed.
Not sure exactly what he meant by “I don’t expect that sort of thing,” Megan watched as he bent to pull off his boots. One hard tug and he straightened, gasping, hand resting on his chest.
“What’s the matter?” Megan took over removing his boots. Crouching, she tugged. It was stubborn so she took a better grip on the heeled boot. Megan had seen pictures of such boots in dime novels. They were probably more what he wore in his normal life than his suit.
With a strong second effort, she got the boot to slide off.
Reaching for the second boot, David caught her shoulder and she looked up at him. He seemed riveted on her face as if he were determined to read her every expression. “What’s the matter is what I talked about in my letter. And that’s the same reason there’ll be no wifely duty expected of you. I don’t want to leave you carrying a child. That’s too much to ask.”
Leave her? Carrying a child? Surely the boys were big enough to walk, but if David’s chest hurt and the boys needed to be carried, she’d manage.
“Do you intend to spend your time away from home then?” She shrugged off his grip and pulled on the other boot.
“No, I’m talking about after I die.”
The boot chose that moment to come off. Megan tumbled back and fell against the wall. The room was narrow, thank heavens, or she’d’ve ended up on her backside.
“What kind of talk is that?”
“There’s no sense ignoring it,” David said. “We need to be honest about it as we go on. That’s why I put it all in the letter. I couldn’t marry a woman who wasn’t able to accept that she’d soon be a widow.”
Megan straightened, dropped the boot on her toe with a sharp thump. Squeaking with pain, she stayed upright when she wanted to sink to the floor. With sudden panic, she spun to her satchel and dug in it, producing the letter. “Where in this letter do you mention such nonsense as death?”
She slapped the letter against his chest. David flinched. She’d hurt him. That little bit of force caused him pain.
Looking from the letter to her and back, David pulled the two sheets of paper apart and studied them, front and back. “I . . . I sent . . .” Shaking his head, he lifted his eyes, horrified eyes, to her. “Th-Three pages. I sent three pages. One of them is missing. The second page is missing.”
“And what does this missing page say, pray tell?” She clutched her hands together, wishing she had the strength to hold back the words she knew David was going to say.
“I’m dying, Megan. We talked about it. At lunch.”
“Aye, we talked about your health. You said you’d had pneumonia.”
�
�I said I had pneumonia . . . which I did. It weakened my lungs and heart. I have terrible chest pains. I can barely work. I can only sleep on one side because the side closest to my heart is too painful. If I cough, which I do far too much, it’s agonizing. I came to Chicago to consult with a doctor. Dr. Filbert told me my heart was giving out.” David paused, his eyes shifting back and forth between both of hers. “Megan, I have less than a year to live.”
Light-headed, Megan turned and sat heavily on the bed beside David. “Less than a year?”
“Yes, that’s why I’ve been searching for a wife who will be good to my children. That’s why no one ever responded to my second letter . . . except you. I was clear in that letter—”
“On the page I didn’t get,” Megan interjected.
Nodding, David said, “Yes—that any woman I married needed to be willing, within a few months, to raise my boys alone.”
“Because you’ll be gone.” Megan’s voice was weak. She let her eyes fall shut and she flopped backward on the bed.
“Megan?” His voice was too close.
She looked. He’d reclined beside her, propped up by his left elbow. Turning to look in his blue eyes, Megan was suddenly swept by the sense that his eyes were too lively, too full of the fire of life to be dying.
Shaking her head, she refused to believe it was true. “I watched my ma and pa die. The vitality left their eyes once there was no turning back from death. I see too much life in you to believe you’re dying.”
He rested one hand on her arm. “I fought it at first too, Megan. If you need time to adjust, I understand that. But we have a lot to do before . . . before . . .”
“You’re too alive to accept a death sentence.”
“I went to the top doctor in Chicago. In fact, I came here on the advice of the doctor in Medicine Bow when he didn’t know what was causing my chest pains. I asked around and Dr. Filbert was the top man.”
“The top man, is it? I’m telling you, David, your top man made a mistake.”
His hand tightened on her arm. “We can’t waste time lying to ourselves. We have a lot to do. The boys need to get used to you as their ma. You need to learn how to run the ranch. I’ve got a foreman but—”
“No! I need to focus on taking care of you and helping you get well. Planning on dying is a waste of time. No man knows the number of hours granted to him by the real top man, God. Why, Zack and I could have died yesterday under the wheels of a stagecoach. We won’t live as if we’re planning on your death. Yes, I’ll be working on earning the lads’ trust and learning the ways of ranch life, but not with the idea of carrying on without you. You’re too alive, too young, too strong to believe such nonsense on the word of a doctor.”
“The top doctor.”
“Well, I say he’s a twit.”
For a moment, David’s hand clutched hers so tightly it was painful, then he let go and sat up. Silence stretched. Megan couldn’t think of what to say as his revelation soaked in. Her protest had been a reflex. But he’d been to a doctor. And he was clearly ill.
Maybe he really would die within the year. It took most of her energy to sit upright.
“I want to believe you, Megan.” David massaged his chest, a motion Megan had seen him make a dozen times since they’d met. “If it weren’t for my young’uns, I’d hope for the best and go on living without giving it much thought. Hoping the doc was wrong. I wouldn’t have even come back east if not for the boys.”
“Did the chest pains just come on suddenly? You said you had pneumonia.”
“I broke a couple of ribs tangling with a longhorn. I ended up with pneumonia, a bad case of it. Near scared me to death thinking of dying and leaving the boys. Doc Sattler in Medicine Bow pulled me through. But that was clear last spring. After all this time, the pains in my chest are still terrible. Doc Sattler said it’s either my lungs or my heart, no way for him to tell. He suggested I find a doctor with more skill.”
Megan slipped her hand over his, tugging it away from his chest. David relaxed and wove his fingers through hers.
Lifting his eyes, he gave her a sad smile. “Coming back east would have been out of the question a few years ago, but with the train stopping at Medicine Bow, I decided to make the trip. I did a lot of research to find the best doctor. He’s the man who gave me the bad news. Then I turned my attention to making plans for my sons. Until I got the doctor’s report, I had no intention of marrying again. My wife, Pamela, was the love of my life, and I want no other wife.”
Megan took that blow and did her best not to flinch. He wasn’t paying attention to her anyway. He was looking into the past, thinking of his true love. Maybe even longing to be with her.
“I’d have been content to simply live on the ranch, raise my boys, and be otherwise alone with my memories. But I don’t have that luxury. I reckon it’d be the honorable thing to let you go. We could get an annulment, I expect, especially if you tell a judge you didn’t realize about my health. But, Megan”—his eyes turned fierce—“I need you. I need help. Will you help me?”
Megan couldn’t look away. She’d imagined this wealthy man had somehow seen past her poor clothing and work-roughened hands, her flyaway fire-red hair and heavy Irish accent, her lack of education and polish—he’d seen past all of that and known she was lovable. But she’d been a fool.
Her parents had used her willingness to work hard to support the family while they’d idled. Her father had died of drink. Her mother had succumbed to pneumonia almost as if she was relieved to quit living. Her little brothers had, one by one, left home and found lives of their own, and forgot they had a big sister. But she’d foolishly hoped that this man had seen she was a good and decent person inside.
She’d had it all wrong. He just wanted someone to raise his children. That, at least, would be a high honor if he found her worthy, because the man was a devoted father. But she couldn’t even claim that. No one else had written back. His choices were her or no one. Which meant marrying her was an act of desperation. He’d scraped her off the bottom of the barrel.
For all that, her vows had been before man and God. No annulment would change the oath she’d sworn.
She had a few chest pains of her own as she hung up her foolish dreams and consigned herself to be what she’d always been, a nurse to the ailing and dying, a caretaker of children not her own, someone who cleaned and tended and served in other people’s homes.
Taking a few firm breaths and steadying her voice lest it tremble, she finally was able to say firmly, “I’ll not be asking you for an annulment, David. My vows were made. I’m a Christian woman who hates to see a child suffer. Even if I’d known the whole of it, I’d have still married you so your children could have someone to care for them.”
She’d never know if that was true. But seeing that there’d be no chance to test the truth of it, she decided to go ahead and believe it.
“Thank you, Megan.” A cough ripped through him and he clutched his chest.
Terror drove all her selfish thoughts from her head. What if he died right now, his young sons in the next room with only Megan, little more than a stranger, to care for them?
Jumping to her feet, Megan used her strong, hardworking hands to ease David onto his back, even as the coughing fit continued. She raised his feet to the bed and positioned a pillow behind his head to elevate him slightly. It had helped her mother a bit when her chest was aching.
Rushing out, she found a pitcher of water in the main room of the car. It was set in such a way that it wouldn’t spill as the train chugged and swayed. She got water for David and rushed back to give him a few sips.
“Aye, ’tis a shame we’re on the train. I could make you a likely cup of tea laced with honey that might ease your cough.”
The water settled him. Megan sat down on the bed. David looked so fragile. But his eyes. She saw the life in them. Pain, yes. Worry, definitely. But bright, shining vitality.
Praying, she felt God whisper in her ear that she
shouldn’t treat David like a dying man. But rather she should go on as if he were only a sick man in need of tender care. That it felt like a word from the Almighty gave her hope and it was a task she was able to do.
With that whisper she let go of her fretting and was struck by the weight of her own long day and the sleepless night before and her battered body from being kicked by a horse.
“Move over with you, husband. We came in here because we both wanted a bit of a nap. No reason not to go ahead and sleep a bit while the lads are abed.”
David pulled back the covers and slid sideways to make room for her. Unlacing, then toe-ing off her own half boots, she lay down and was surprised when David slid his arm under her shoulders and drew her to his side.
“We aren’t going to be husband and wife in the way of nighttime goings-on, Megan.” His deep voice in her ear was an odd and stirring feeling. She nestled closer. “But in every other way, I will try to be the best husband to you I can. Let me hold you while we sleep.”
It felt wonderful. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let herself be held. Not since her youngest brother had reached that inevitable age when he no longer allowed cuddling had she touched anyone except in passing, shoulders brushing on a busy street perhaps, nothing more.
Could a woman be hungry for a strong arm? Because lying with David fed her as surely as a feast.
She was a fool to let herself enjoy him. If she got used to having him in her life, the pain of losing him would be terrible.
Oh, she would care about him. That was the nature of simple human kindness. She could even love him as called by her Maker to love her neighbor, and—seeing as how they’d be sharing a house—he was the truest sort of neighbor.
But that was a far sight from falling in love. She dared not do that. She needed to remain separate from him, think of him as a patient under her care. Then when he died . . . if he died . . . her heart wouldn’t be torn asunder.
He shifted and pulled her closer, and she wasn’t sure she could protect her heart from loving him.
THE TRAIN CHUGGED ACROSS FOUR STATES. BIG STATES at that.
Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton Page 22