She had to think of Sam now. What would be best for him?
When Sam had left the room with Mr. Lassen, Beryl sat down beside James. “I don’t know how we’ll ever repay your family. It seems certain we must stay the winter.”
“Yes, we figured that,” he said, brushing his light brown bangs away from his eyes. “But you’re not to worry.”
“We must pay you something. You’re feeding us half our meals, and the firewood alone …”
“You’ll need your money when you leave here,” James said.
“Pa wouldn’t want us to be beholden.”
James’s expression tightened, and his blue eyes flashed. She knew he wouldn’t relent. His parents wouldn’t either. She had tried with his mother, and Wolf Lassen, though he was a shrewd businessman, seemed to have a tender soul when it came to women and children in distress.
“Perhaps later on you can help Ma with the housework.”
He meant after her father died, but neither of them would say that.
“Eat up now.” He passed her the platter of sliced pork.
The smell of it alone made her mouth water. “What is all the hammering I’ve been hearing?” she asked.
“I’m building a new storeroom on the back. Pa hopes to bring back even more supplies than usual this year. There’s talk of regular stagecoaches coming through. With more commerce back and forth, he thinks we should increase our inventory.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help, once …”
James nodded and drained his coffee mug.
“Does anyone come by in winter?” Beryl asked.
“There always seem to be a few military detachments on the move, and in a bad winter the Indians will stop by for a trade. We’ll get a few hunters and trappers. And the Mormons go through with their mail. They try to keep it running all winter, and we’ve had a couple of their men bunk here during snowy times.”
“It sounds as though Chiswell Rock is a social beehive.”
James laughed. “Not quite. You know it’s been a week since we’ve seen a soul pass by. And by mid-December it’s pretty quiet. If the snow is too deep for wagons, we may not see anyone for three months or more. But as soon as the thaw begins, watch out. It starts all over again.”
“Do you and your mother feel secure here with your father gone?” This was a fear that Beryl had not allowed herself to examine too closely.
“Now and again we have some trouble, but it gets less every year. More civilized. Pa hopes that someday there’ll be a town here.” James gazed at her while she took a few bites of the delicious food. “I’ve wondered about your family.”
“Have you?” Beryl asked.
“Ma said your mother passed away. I’m sorry about that.”
“Yes, last year. We had a bout of fever back home. I … had two sisters, as well. Pa thought that with just the three of us left, we needed a new beginning. He hoped to get a homestead and farm.” The memory of her father’s excitement while he planned this trip made her falter. All her anticipation was gone now. Would she be able to work past her grief, as Pa had, and plan for a new start?
“I’m sorry.” James rose and took his dishes to the worktable. “When Sam is done helping my pa, do you mind if he comes out back with me? He likes to hand me nails and fetch things for me.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you.”
“He might make a carpenter one day.” James’s smile glinted. For a moment, Beryl’s heart stirred, and she envisioned happier times.
“Yes, he might. Pa loved to work with wood. He carved a menagerie for Sam.”
James’s smile broadened. “I saw the giraffe.”
“He has an elephant and a water buffalo, as well. He used to carve by the campfire in the evening.” A wave of sadness overtook Beryl. “He’d started a lion, but”—she looked up at him—“I don’t suppose he’ll ever finish it.”
James nodded soberly. “I know this is difficult for you. I wish I could do more.”
“You and your parents are a tremendous help. Just keeping Sam occupied lifts such a burden from me. I wouldn’t want him in the cabin all the time when I’m tending to Pa. It’s good for Sam to get away from it. And I think he’s learning from you as well. He’s small, but he soaks up all that he sees and hears. I was going to teach him how to read and write when we got to Oregon.”
“There will be time for that,” James said.
“Yes.” Too much time, Beryl thought as she looked down the lonely months and years to come.
Chapter 3
Before mounting his horse to head eastward, James’s father took him aside.
“The ground’s freezing up, boy,” Pa said. “Best dig a grave now and be prepared.”
James nodded. “I will, Pa.”
“I’d stay and help you, but I need to get moving.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
He would do the job tomorrow, without telling Beryl. His mother could keep Samuel occupied at the house while he was gone. James hated to do it. It seemed too much like prophesying Mr. Jenner’s death. But Pa was right. The man had no chance, and Beryl would be upset if they had to keep his body until spring for burial.
Pa clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be back when the snow’s off.” He strode to the doorstep, where Ma and Sam stood. He kissed Ma and shook hands with Sam. “Take care of your sister, young man.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
James stood with the boy and Ma and watched Pa ride away. He always hated the day Pa left—but this year was different. He looked down at Sam. “Ready to get to work, pard?”
Sam nodded eagerly.
Sam entered the cabin quietly, shutting the door behind him, and tiptoed over to Beryl’s chair beside Pa’s bed.
She smiled at him. “Did you get a lot done today?”
“Uh-huh. We finished the roof.”
“The roof? Goodness! You weren’t up there, were you?”
“Some.”
Beryl stared at him. It hadn’t occurred to her to tell James not to let her little brother climb on the trading post roof. “But it’s done now?”
Sam nodded, setting his mop of chestnut hair bouncing. If she didn’t give him a haircut soon, he’d look like one of the shaggy mountain men who stopped occasionally at the trading post.
“I’m not sure you should be climbing ladders,” she said.
Sam made a face. “I was careful. Besides, when I was up there with James, he tied a rope around my middle, just in case.”
“Aha.” So James wasn’t as imprudent as she had first imagined.
Sam gazed at their father. “Is he any better?”
“I’m afraid not.”
A month had dragged by, and still Pa lingered, his breathing shallow. His white face barely stirred, but he accepted liquids by the spoonful. Not once since the day he’d been shot had he opened his eyes and looked at Beryl. She wished he would speak to her, just once more, even if only to say good-bye.
“Everyone said he would die,” Sam whispered.
The ever-near tears threatened to overwhelm Beryl in her state of fatigue. “He will,” she said softly. “It can’t be much longer.”
“How do you know?”
“He doesn’t drink enough to keep him going.”
“Are you sure he’s alive?”
Sam’s voice trembled, and Beryl put her arm around him and pulled him close. “Yes, dearest.”
Over the weeks, a subtle change had come into her feelings and her prayers. At first she would have done anything to keep her father alive. Now she knew it was time to let go. It would be best for Pa, and for them, too, if he went peacefully and soon. “When he goes, he’ll be at rest.” Her voice cracked, and Sam looked at her anxiously.
“Isn’t he resting now?”
“Yes, but …” She didn’t know what else to say, so she hugged him tighter.
Sam put his arms around her neck and squeezed. “What will happen to us?”
“I don’t know, but
God will provide for us.” Beryl had nothing more to offer.
James went to the cabin just after sunset. Beryl’s eyes were shadowed with weariness.
“Any change?” he asked.
Beryl shook her head.
“I could sit with him for a while if you’d like to go over and have a cup of tea with Ma.”
“I … I feel as though I shouldn’t leave him.” Beryl glanced over her shoulder toward the bed.
“Thought you might need a respite. Besides, Ma’s a bit lonesome.”
Still she hesitated. She leaned closer and whispered. “I know I said no change, but I don’t think he can hold on much longer, James.”
“I understand. Let me take Sam for a while?”
“You’ve had him all day.”
“I know. But I could tell him a story.”
“He’d like that.”
Sam rose from the bench by the stove. James had made sure Beryl had plenty of fuel and water each day. She used to let his mother spell her in her bedside vigil, and occasionally James himself. But for the past week, she had hardly left the cabin.
Sam pulled on his short wool jacket and tugged a knit hat down over his ears.
“I’ll bring him back in an hour or so,” James promised.
“What will the story be?” Sam asked as they crossed the yard to the house door at the side of the trading post.
“Have you heard the one about Jim Bridger and the grizzly bear?”
“No. Tell that!”
James grinned and pulled the boy into the kitchen. Ma was just taking the stew kettle off the stove.
“I couldn’t persuade Beryl to come over, but I expect this little fellow could use a bowl of stew,” James said.
Ma smiled and reached for her ladle. “Take your coat off.”
“Don’t forget about the story,” Sam said anxiously to James.
“I won’t, and when that’s done, maybe Ma will read to us from the Bible.”
“I surely will.” She ladled out portions for the three of them and put the kettle back on the stove.
An hour later, James sat in Pa’s comfortable oak chair by the stove, with Sam sprawled on his lap. Ma sat opposite them in her rocking chair, softly reading about the battle of Jericho. When she finished, she looked over at her son and Sam.
“I’d have thought that exciting tale would keep a little one awake, but he seems to be asleep.”
“I’ll take him home,” James said. “If he doesn’t wake up, maybe Beryl will slip away for a few minutes.”
“Go,” Ma said. “There’s still plenty of stew, and hot water for tea.”
Samuel roused a bit when James eased his arms into his coat, but he lolled against James’s shoulder and allowed himself to be carried to the door. James pulled his mother’s shawl around the boy and stepped outside. The cold air didn’t wake Sam, and James walked swiftly to the cabin. A few snowflakes drifted down in the moonlight. He tapped gently and opened the cabin door.
Beryl came to meet him with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“The lad’s asleep,” James said. “Are you all right?”
Beryl put a hand to her throat. “It’s Pa. I think he’s gone.”
James caught his breath. “I’m sorry.” He laid Sam on his bunk and stepped to Beryl’s side. “May I?”
She nodded, and James pulled off his glove and touched Mr. Jenner’s brow then moved his hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. The man lay utterly still, not breathing. After a moment James stepped back.
“I’m so sorry.”
Beryl sniffed and then let out a sob.
James fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. Beryl snatched it and wiped her face. She started to crumple, and James feared she would hit the floor in a heap. He reached to steady her and found himself holding her in his arms while she cried. Although her weeping distressed him, it was not an unpleasant experience.
He wondered what the etiquette was in a situation like this. If Ma were here, she would cosset the girl and offer words of comfort. He couldn’t think of anything to say that he hadn’t already said, so he stood awkwardly holding her while she sobbed against the front of his coat. After a minute, she still wept, and he dared to pat her shoulder gently.
Beryl pulled away and looked up at him through her tears. He feared he had offended her, but she grabbed a fistful of his lapel and clung to it, almost desperately.
“James! What will become of us now? I must do for Sam, but I’ve no idea where to turn. East or west? Throw myself on the mercy of relatives, or forge on into the unknown?”
James gazed down at her, his heart racing. She was beautiful in the dim lamplight, though her eyelids were swollen and her cheeks glistened.
“You needn’t worry about that now,” he said. “You can’t go east or west for several months. There’s time to think and to plan, and to wait on God to show you what is best.”
She let out a long breath, and her shoulders slumped. “You’re right of course. Thank you. I had a moment of panic, and I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” James said. “I’ll send Ma over to help you, but I’d be happy to talk anytime you want. Maybe in a few days, things will look clearer.” He wouldn’t mind lending a shoulder again either, but he didn’t say that. The very thought made him blush.
“If you won’t move into the house with us, you and young Samuel can at least take your meals there,” Clara urged.
“Oh, you mustn’t—” Beryl began.
“Nonsense! No use both of us cooking. It’s too late for you to move on, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with James and me. We can combine our efforts to get the meals. And it will be much easier for you, rather than trying to cook and wash dishes over here.”
“All right.” Beryl was still numb from her father’s death.
Yesterday they’d laid him in the ground wrapped in a blanket, and she had folded his clothing and taken his things out to the wagon. James had rolled the wagon into the barn to protect it from the winter weather. The rest of the Jenner family’s supplies were still in boxes and barrels in the wagon, along with all their household goods and Pa’s tools. She could take some of their foodstuffs in to share with the Lassens—although, if they ate all their stores this winter, what would they take when they left in the spring? She wasn’t sure the money left in Pa’s cache would buy enough new supplies to get them either to Oregon or back to New York.
The icy wind snaked about the cabin that night. The firewood James had brought them was consumed before dawn, and Beryl shivered as she dressed and hurried out to the woodpile to get more. Despite her woolen stockings, coat, and muffler, her hands ached when she got back inside, and tiny icicles had formed on her lashes.
When she and Sam arrived at the Lassens’ kitchen door for breakfast an hour later, Clara opened it and pulled them inside.
“Quick! Come in and get warm. Why, Sam, your lips are blue!”
“I hadn’t planned to come over until noon,” Beryl said, “but it was so cold, even though I kept the stove roaring. I was afraid Sam would take ill.”
“You were right to come.” Clara bustled them toward the warm stove. The big kitchen range radiated warmth, and steam puffed cheerfully from the teakettle’s spout. “Sit down. I’ll bring you both some tea with plenty of sugar.”
Beryl peeled off her gloves and helped Sam unrig. She was determined to do everything in her power to make things easier for Mrs. Lassen. She and Sam would not be a burden.
On a frigid morning four days later, Beryl dashed back toward the cabin to retrieve her workbag and slipped on the slick surface in the barnyard. Her bruises weren’t serious, but they made her think. She could as easily have broken her leg.
She could see the sense of moving into the trading post. The Lassens were burning coal now, as wood was scarce on the plains. They would burn less fuel if she and Sam moved into the post. They would be safer, especially if the brutal cold lasted.
When she finally re
lented, James set up two army cots in the trading room. The small stove in the middle of the room put out enough heat to take the chill off, but they wouldn’t keep this room as warm as the kitchen. He had hung a blanket so that at night they could curtain off two-thirds of the room—everything but the counter and doors to the storeroom and family quarters.
“I was thinking, you could take my room over the kitchen,” James said, eyeing her cautiously.
“Absolutely not,” Beryl said. “I’ll stay out here with Sam. It’s bad enough you’re saddled with us for the winter. I won’t turn you out of your room.”
“All right then.”
She was glad he hadn’t argued. The situation was awkward enough as it was.
“I’m very grateful for your kindness,” she said in a gentler tone.
James smiled. “We don’t mind.”
His mother appeared in the doorway. “Did you bring everything you’ll need?”
“The necessities,” Beryl said. “When it gets warmer, I’ll go back for the rest of our things and the extra food supplies that are in the wagon.”
Mrs. Lassen nodded. “No doubt this cold snap will lift soon. For now, just make yourselves comfortable.” She smiled at Beryl. “I hope you’ll spend a great deal of your time with us. It’s a treat to have another woman here in December.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said.
“And we’ve got plenty of blankets and such. Anything that will make you more comfortable in here, just speak up.”
Mrs. Lassen’s generosity surprised Beryl. The entire family seemed to be kindhearted and selfless, though practical. Before the wagons had reached Chiswell Rock, she had been told that Mr. Lassen was a sharp bargainer and prices would be high. But that also made sense, since he went to such trouble and expense to stock his post. He held back what his family needed, and he drove a hard bargain with his customers, yet he hadn’t complained when his wife and son opened their doors to her and Sam.
The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West Page 9