Cora Captures a Cowboy

by Linda K. Hubalek

  “Your brothers will take care of that, Sarah,” her mother said matter–a–fact. “I’ll have to go home and get clothing for myself, as well.”

  “Sarah?” Maggie wandered in the room, ignoring the adults and going to stand at Sarah’s side. “When’s Momma gonna wake up? I want to ask her somethin’.”

  Sarah looked at her mother, then at Marcus. But they said nothing, making her realize the children were her responsibility now. “Adam?” she wanted to be sure Margaret’s body had been moved first, in case Maggie took off running for the cabin after Sarah told her.

  “Wagon’s gone to town,” Adam replied with a curt nod.

  She took a deep breath before rising from the chair and taking Maggie’s hand. “Let’s get your brother and sister and go over to the cabin. Marcus and I need to talk to you.”

  Was she ready to handle one of the hardest things she’d ever have to tell a child? Would they resent her for the loss of their mother? Will Marcus help her comfort the children, or will he withdraw from their reach? Sarah straightened her shoulders and took her first step as a mother.

  Chapter 8

  “Momma? Momma?” Marcus’ soul cried for the child who would never hear her mother’s voice again. How cruel was it to lose both parents within a few months’ time?

  But he’d seen worse when children witnessed the terrible deaths of their parents during fights between the settlers and the Natives. At least Maggie and Marty won’t have those images in their minds forever.

  “Momma’s not in bed. Did she go to the house to be with the babies?”

  “Ah, no she’s not in Isaac’s house. Let’s sit together and talk,” Sarah said as she sat down on the bed and pulled Maggie onto her lap. Marty crawled up on the bed and sat beside the two. Marcus had carried Maisie over to the cabin, and he kept her in his arms now. He leaned against the door frame and kept quiet, anxious to see how Sarah would break the news to the children.

  “What did your mother say when your father never came home again?” Sarah gently asked.

  “Momma said Poppa went to heaven and couldn’t come back to see us,” Maggie whispered sorrowfully.

  “I remember his funeral at the church graveyard and you laid some pretty garden flowers on the grave when the burial was done.”

  “They were wild roses which bloomed by our cabin…not this cabin but the one we lived at before. Momma said they were Poppa’s favorite flower so that’s why we picked them. But they had thorns so Momma wrapped a dish cloth around the stems.”

  “What’s your Momma’s favorite flower, Maggie?”

  “Don’t know. She likes anything we pick and bring to her. Momma puts them in a special vase and sets them on the table so she can enjoy them.”

  “She only likes dandy lions,” Marty added to the conversation, probably to irk his sister.

  “Momma says they’re weeds…”

  “No! They have a pretty flower.”

  Sarah looked up at Marcus while the children bickered. She knew it had to be said, so she took a big breath and straightened her shoulders.

  “Children, your momma went to heaven today, so she’s with your poppa now.”

  “No she’s not. She said she’d never do that,” Maggie solemnly stated.

  Marcus looked heavenward. He guessed Margaret did say such to her children to keep them from feeling abandoned. But it was the very thing that happened.

  “I’m afraid we don’t know when we’ll go to heaven, but it’s a very special place and your parents are happy to be together again.”

  “Will they be home by supper time?” Marty asked.

  Maggie’s face turned red as she realized what Sarah was telling them. “No! Momma didn’t die! She didn’t die!” The little girl screamed, terrified by Sarah’s words.

  Sarah wrapped her arms around the sobbing child, trying to comfort the blow to the little girl’s heart. She murmured, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” while the child continued to scream, “NO! NOOO!” Maggie turned in Sarah’s lap and hit Sarah with her tiny fists to fight the terrifying words.

  Marty started bawling, not sure what was going on, then Maisie screamed to add to the melee. Marcus swayed back and forth trying to calm Maisie while the other two children clung to Sarah.

  “Who’s gonna to take care of us?” Maggie peered up to Sarah. “Momma won’t let me touch the stove, so I can’t cook,” Maggie’s face scrunched up again.

  “Remember what your Momma told you after the babies were born?” Sarah asked.

  “Sarah, this isn’t the time to say that. We don’t know yet,” Marcus tried to warn Sarah from saying more.

  “She said you and Marcus were going to be...but I don’t want YOU! I want my Momma and Poppa!” she screamed and started struggling again before Sarah tightened her hug around Maggie.

  Another round of sobs echoed through the little cabin. Marcus carried Maisie out to the porch to get away from the mayhem. He wasn’t surprised to see Cate and Isaac standing on the porch of the house because they had to hear the screaming children from there. But the older couple stayed away, letting Sarah handle it her way. With all of Cate’s years of childrearing and wisdom, her staying away spoke of her confidence in Sarah. Marcus didn’t feel the same about himself though. Could he help these children heal from the loss of their parents? Maggie understood what happened, but the two younger ones were only missing their mother’s comfort and care. Time would help their little souls, if Sarah had her way, but at this point, they didn’t know whether the children would be staying on the Cross C.

  Isaac and Cate went to Margaret’s funeral by themselves. There was no use adding to the children’s trauma by making them stand by a hole in the ground, watching their mother’s casket being lowered into it. The children could visit it later, when they had time to heal and adjust to their new life.

  The first days after Margaret’s death were hard and wearing on everyone.

  Thank goodness Sarah had help. Her mother helped with the babies’ care, mostly of Matthew and Mark, while Sarah kept Micah with her practically around the clock. Sarah was beyond exhausted after only two days. The only sleep she had gotten were catnaps when the infant slept on her chest. She woke up instantly when she felt him nuzzling her chest. He moved his head side to side, sticking out his little tongue or puckering his lips as if to suck. At first Micah couldn’t stick his fingers or fist in his mouth as much as his brothers, but he was getting better at it. Sarah wished she could nurse the infant herself, but had to be satisfied with giving him a bottle of milk instead.

  The babies only drank an ounce or two of milk at a time, but they needed to be fed every two hours or so around the clock, and none of the babies were on the same schedule.

  Sarah couldn’t believe how many diapers three infants used in one day. The women made tiny diapers out of soft flannel to use while the babies were so tiny. Each boy wet at least six diapers a day, and soiled another four—and multiplied by three babies—the infants were going through over thirty diapers a day.

  John Keller, the ranch cook, made extra food at the bunk house kitchen and brought it up to the main house for their meals. His job included washing the ranch hands’ clothes, but he had problems washing the diapers. John could handle washing cattle manure on men’s trousers, but gagged scraping baby poop off soiled diapers. He washed the men’s clothes outside in hot vat of water once a week, and having to wash those little diapers daily threw his schedule off. But John didn’t complain, wanting to do anything he could for the orphaned babies like everyone else on the ranch.

  The three older children acted out from their anger and confusion. Besides the loss of their mother, and their home, the new babies upset the routine the family had before tragedy crashed their young lives. It hurt that Maggie still avoided her, but Sarah understood the girl’s trauma better than the child did.

  The older children shadowed Marcus because they were used to seeing him daily. He answered their questions, held them when they cried, and
became the peacekeeper during the children’s fights. If all else failed, a book read by his soothing voice calmed their nerves or put them to sleep.

  Marcus wasn’t getting much sleep either. The children’s trundle bed was moved to the room between Marcus’ and Sarah’s bedrooms so the adults could keep an eye on them. Sarah was alarmed when she checked on the children the first night and they weren’t in their room. She thought they might have tried to go back to Rusty’s cabin, but then she saw Marcus’ bedroom door standing open. Peeking in, Sarah saw Marcus awake, staring at the ceiling, his arms around children on both sides of him. If she would have dared, she would have climbed into bed with them because she needed comfort, too. Whether Marcus realized it or not, he was becoming the father figure to three orphaned children. Would he be able to become her husband too?

  Chapter 9

  Marcus jerked around, on his hands and knees, frantically feeling for his revolver on the ground, until his hands froze, feeling the soft little body beside him. Was it still alive, or was it dead and the body hadn’t cooled yet? Marcus shoved the child behind him with one hand as he continued searching for his weapon.

  “Moses, Moses!” A woman screamed right behind him. He turned to see where the woman was—just as an arrow sliced through her body—pinning her to the front of the wagon. He whipped his head around to see where the arrow had come from, as something hard hit his head, sending him sprawling over the child he was trying to protect. He kicked at the assailant standing over him with all his strength, trying desperately to stop the knife raised to stab his gut. He watched as the knife plunged into his right thigh, red spreading everywhere when the weapon was jerked out and raised again.

  “Marcus? You’re squashing me!”

  Marcus stilled, hearing a child’s voice he recognized. He slid his right hand down his thigh, but it wasn’t warm and sticky. Was he in the infirmary?

  A child’s grunt and push sent Marcus rolling over onto his side, reaching for the child he was trying to protect.

  “Marcus, how come you called me Moses? You know my name is Marty.”

  Marty, in bed with him, in a bedroom at the ranch house.

  Marcus let out a slow breath, wiping the sweat off his face, realizing he wasn’t being attacked while escorting a wagon train. The nightmare was back, hitting him full force as he mentally fought off the attackers again. He hadn’t had the vivid dream in almost a month.

  “Sorry, Marty. I didn’t mean to scare you. Grownups have bad dreams sometimes, too,” Marcus explained, while gently pulling Marty up against his side. Marcus had carried all three children back to their own bed after they had fallen asleep in his, but Marty must have crawled back in bed with him again. Thank goodness the girls weren’t back too, or he could have literally kicked them out of bed.

  Within a few minutes Marty fell back to sleep, softly snoring while curled up beside Marcus. Marcus was glad the child wasn’t remembering the tragic loss of his mother, so at least Marty could get some sleep. Restful slumber had been eluding him since their lives slammed to a halt last Sunday.

  Marcus hadn’t had much time to think about his aborted trip to Fort Wallace—until now. Was that why he was having the dream again? Probably because he was so tired, and taking care of young children at the moment. In the nightmare he was always trying to protect a child—sometimes a boy, and other times a girl.

  When Marcus awoke in the infirmary after the skirmish, he asked about the child who had been lying under him when he was attacked. There was no child, he was told by his rescuers, so why did his dreams always have a child in them?

  ***

  “Got a telegram from Lyle Elison this morning so thought I’d ride out with it,” Adam said as he set a pie on the kitchen table.

  “You did pretty well holding a pie while riding out here on your horse,” Cate said while filling another bottle of milk for a baby.

  “Cannon is sure–footed so I was safe carrying one of Millie’s apple pies out here…especially since I wasn’t hungry,” Adam chuckled. His wife, Millie, baked pies for Clancy’s Café and the Paulson Hotel and it was always a treat when she made one for family gatherings.

  “What did he say, Adam? I’ve been on pins and needles since the Rayburns’ letter was found,” Sarah would be wringing her hands with worry, except she was feeding Micah at the moment.

  “It was brief, being a telegram. Lyle said he found Mrs. Rayburn, a widow, who’s living with her son, Hank. Mrs. Rayburn’s daughter, Dorothy was Margaret’s mother. Both of Margaret’s parents are deceased and she had no siblings. Telegram said the family would write back when they decide what to do,” Adam replied, stepping behind his seated sister to rub her shoulders. “You’ll have to be patient, Sis. I know it’s hard, but you’re giving them great care until their guardianship is established.”

  “I know...but it’s hard to wait. Will they be my responsibility and my family for life, or will I be packing up their diapers and watching the children leave for good?” Sarah also wanted to know so she and Marcus could have a talk about their future.

  “Well, if you don’t end up an instant family, you can apply for the Clear Creek teacher’s position, which is still open for this fall session. You’d be excellent for the job. Kids flock to you whenever they see you in church or in stores,” Adam encouraged her.

  “I’d thought about teaching, but then I became engaged to Ethan, so my job was to be working at the hotel instead,” Sarah shrugged her shoulders as Adam worked out the kinks in them.

  “The teaching job comes with a room at the boarding house, so you’d be in town should you want to court men, too,” Adam leaned over to loudly whisper in her ear. She reached back and slapped his forearm.

  “Ouch! Touchy subject. Apparently you and Marcus haven’t decided your future yet either, huh?” Adam rubbed his sore arm with his other hand.

  “Between taking care of the children, and Marcus helping Isaac with the ranch, we haven’t had time alone to discuss it. Catching sleep when we can has been our goal this week.”

  “As it should be, but do think hard whether you really want to raise six children,” Adam pointed his index finger at her, as he’d done since she was a toddler. “And it might be the family will want only the older kids, or vice versa. In other words don’t count your ‘eggs’ before they hatch. Some might be rotten.”

  “I don’t think any of the children are ‘rotten’, but you still have some good advice, Adam. Want a cup of coffee before you return to town? We can cut the pie now, too,” Cate asked.

  “Nope. I need to get back to town. I get to eat Millie’s desserts every day, so keep the pie for yourselves,” Adam walked to the door, ready to put his hat back on. “I’ll keep an eye out for a letter from the Rayburns. See you on Sunday, if not before.”

  Sarah watched her brother as he opened the screen door and stepped off the back porch. Her family had been here so often this week they had stopped knocking and just walked in. Isaac’s house had been invaded with people, noise and dirt, but he took it calmly, considering he’d been practically living here by himself for about seven years.

  Micah went from sucking on the bottle to stopping a few seconds, then he’d suck again. He was almost asleep. Sarah carefully lifted him to her diaper–covered shoulder to gently pat his back. The infant gave a little burp, a little sigh, and slumped on her shoulder as he fell fast asleep. She waited a few moments before laying him down for his, hopefully, two–hour nap.

  Mark seemed to know it was his turn next as he fussed, kicking his tiny legs and making grunting sounds when Sarah reached to pick him up to feed him next. Her mother handed Sarah a warm bottle, then sat down at the table.

  The three older children were with Isaac this morning so they were free to talk without the children listening to their conversation. And there were some questions she wanted to discuss with her mother.

  “I know it will be another week or two before we may hear back from the family, but I’m so anxious to find
out what’s going to happen to the children. It feels like my life is on hold until someone else makes the decision of what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

  Cate chuckled. “Sorry, but it makes me think of Esther Paulson telling you what you were going to do with the rest of your life. She was a nice lady until they started building their hotel.” When the Paulsons first moved to Clear Creek, Mr. Paulson was a barber. Then he inherited a large sum of money from an uncle and Mrs. Paulson decided to build a hotel with his windfall.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me not to marry Ethan, Momma.”

  “It was an adult decision you had to make yourself, Sarah. And you could have made your marriage work well between you and Ethan, given time…and a little less interference from Esther. All marriages are work to an extent. It’s always give and take between spouses, but most couples find their balance and have a good partnership.”

  “I would have been fine marrying Ethan…until I met Marcus,” Sarah glanced at her mother to see what her reaction would be to her confession.

  “Sometimes it’s very clear who you should marry, and other times there is more than one person who could make you happy.”

  “So am I making the right decision wanting to raise these children? I really need your input, because this will be what I’m doing for the rest of my life…if the Rayburns decide to leave them here.”

  “Thinking back to when your three brothers were young, I’d almost say ‘don’t do it!’ Being each a year apart they were almost like triplets and could get into more trouble than you can imagine. I’d have them clean, dressed in their church clothes, and tell them to wait outside on the porch until we were ready to go. Not five minutes later, your father and I would walk outside ready to leave…and the boys would be throwing dirt clods at each other or stomping in the only mud puddle in the whole yard. I’d become so exasperated I wanted to wring their little necks. The only time they were quiet ‘little angels’ was when they were sleeping.”